I Miss That
by arrowheadflyby
Summary: Brennan and Angela slash. Suggestions are welcome. Exploring their history, chemistry, etc. If you don't like, don't read, please. I'd rather not offend anyone.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey! So this is going to be a fic mainly between Angela and Brennan. In fact, basically all between Angela and Brennan. Likely little snap shots between all the seasons, in between, etc. I'm not totally sure where I'm going with this, but I really wanted to try a fic like this. Thanks to everyone, please read and review!**

* * *

The first time Angela had met Brennan, Angela was doing an art show. Fresh, bright eyed, almost totally unaware of the harshness of the world around her. Her father had been a rock star, her mother had died at a young age. Not quite old enough to be considered a starving artist, but not quite fresh enough to be considered a newbie.

Brennan had just recently been hired at the Jeffersonian institute. New to the DC area, the Anthropologist had put in her application six months back and had almost immediately obtained the job. This not so bright eyed, weary woman was out in the world, looking after herself. Just as she'd always looked after herself. She was scared, sure, but it wasn't so much the fear that broke into her bones. She was good at sloughing feelings off. She was good at pretending.

You couldn't really say WHY she'd been to the art exhibit. She found most art relatively intriguing, but found the constant attention to art, music and television to be a declining feature in society. She believed that science should be adored, not emotions. Science should be glorified. Not the arts.

None the less, Dr. Temperance Brennan made her way to the art exhibit and looked around, judging any inaccuracies. A painting, however, did catch her eye.

It was human, slouching on a chair. Obviously an old man. The skulls architecture was perfect, structured perfectly. It was this awe that held her there for the longest time. She found it amazing that no one seemed to be paying attention to this piece of art. In her personal opinion, it was the best thing she had seen in a long time. Accurate. No shallow emotions. Simply _what was there._

She turned around to see a woman also looking at the painting, and pointed at the picture.

"Do you know who painted this?" she asked, not at all timidly. The women looked at Brennan and her brows furrowed, before she smiled happily.

"That'd be me! My names Angela Montenegro. And you are…" she asked. She hadn't seen this woman around and was pleasantly surprised to see her in front of her work.

"Dr. Temperance Brennan, from the Jeffersonian institute. That's very impressive. Have you studied human anatomy?" she asked. Angela's brows furrowed and she chuckled.

"No, not really. That isn't even my best piece. I have more over there. That one…I couldn't capture the emotion quite like I'd wanted to," she admitted, almost sadly, as she looked over to the piece. Brennan felt her heart drop, but she kept a clear face.

"It's fantastic. It really is. I'd be willing to buy it from you, if you're willing to sell," she offered. Eyes wide, Angela stared over at the piece and gulped in.

"Um…Sure! Of course. I'll call you when this exhibit is done!" she stated, almost shakily, as Brennan smiled, a rare feature now a days, and started to walk away.

Angela stood there, almost in shell shock, as she turned around and looked back at the painting.

She couldn't point out exactly why this woman wanted this piece, but she knew something.

If she could just capture that look in the woman's eyes when she'd seen it, Angela would know more about the world then she'd ever be able to tell through painting alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**So far these have been short, and I'm sorry! If you have any suggestions you want to pose, just let me know. Read and review. Mucho love, everyone!**

* * *

What had captured her about this woman? After all, what had science ever done for HER? She'd done rather poorly in most of her science classes, reluctant to do labs instead of drawing. This woman was all about science. There was not one ounce of artist in Dr. Temperance Brennan. So why was she so fixated on this woman? Why did she care?

At first, it was partially for the money. A chance to go to Paris. The hunky FBI agent didn't hurt things either. And while Angela had always detested death, hated it with a passion, it was a job. And if she got to see Temperance every day because of it, she wasn't going to complain.

After Booth and Brennan had separated their ties, Angela had almost lost it. The one thing that was keeping her sane in this job was now gone. So when she walked into Brennan's office that night, dangling keys in front of her, it was more than just wanting to have a good time. It was about keeping her sanity.

"Brennan. We are going out to drink away our sorrows. You are not allowed to sulk in here anymore," she stated. Brennan had looked up, and her brows had furrowed.

"Why do you call me Brennan? Why not Temperance?"

"Because Temperance is horrible, sweetie. I'm sorry," she stated. "Almost worse than my real name. Almost," she stated, rolling her eyes.

Brennan didn't seem particularly annoyed by this, or even hurt. Instead, she shrugged and bent over her computer. Angela rolled her eyes.

"Come _on. _I've been drawing death masks for the last eight hours. At least come drink with me to make sure I don't hook up with someone I'll regret,"

"How on earth do I know what you'll regret?"

Angela sighed and walked closer, dropping her purse on Brennan's desk.

"Sweetie. Please. I'm dying for some fun here,"

"Why don't you just go by yourself?"

"Because. You need to get out. Come on. It'll be fun. I won't have any fun without you," she stated, eyes pleading.

To the untrained eye, this might have seemed like a lie. Anyone who worked with Temperance Brennan would tell you that it would probably be less fun with her. However, Angela hadn't been lying. She was worried about the young woman who studied death all day long. She had the feeling that she'd only be THINKING of Brennan if she went out to drink.

Brennan looked up, exasperated, and sighed.

"Fine. For a couple hours."

Angela grinned, knowing she had won.

"Good,"

* * *

By the time both left the bar, Angela was leaning on Brennan and giggling. Brennan, slightly more able to handle her alcohol, was trying to figure out what to make of the young artist. When she called a taxi for Angela, and helped her get in, Angela tugged on her and told her to get in.

"Come on! I don't want to be alone!"

"I do…" Brennan mumbled under her breath before crawling in, knowing she'd just drop Angela off and then go home. She didn't feel like dealing with personal relationships right now. She didn't really feel like dealing with anyone. Why had she agreed to come out here again?

When they got to Angela's apartment, she helped the young artist in and waved at the taxi cab driver to stick around for her. Of course, he just nodded at the running meter and Brennan had to keep from rolling her eyes.

"Angela, are you going to be okay for the night?" she asked, already starting to back out the door. Giggling, Angela nodded and leaned forward.

"You're not leaving, are you?"

Brennan bit her cheek and nodded.

"Yes, I'm afraid I have to go. Take care, alright? I'll see you in the morning," she stated, turning around and closing the door, making sure to lock it from the inside before going out to the cab.

For the first time in a long time, however, Brennan found herself thinking back to Miss Montenegro. And hoping she would be okay until morning. Hoping she'd be safe.

Not understanding the feeling, Brennan pushed it off and looked out the window.

'It isn't my concern,' she thought.

Her emotions, however, told her different. Ignoring them was easy for her, though, so she did what was easiest.

She paid no heed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Perhaps I should explain a little bit as to why I wrote this. First off, I wanted to explore how the heck two totally opposite personalities could somehow become best friends within a year time span. Angela literally knew parts parts of Brennan's life and it only took about a year. These two are total opposites, here. How did that even happen?**

**Second off, as unpopular as this often is, I do ship Brennan/Angela ALONG with Brennan/Booth. This just happens to be a Brennan/ Angela fic. So if you aren't into that kind of thing, I suggest you leave. That may sound harsh, but I don't want to offend anybody. So be warned. If you read without hearing my warning, and are offended, then that's your fault. But the reviews have been wonderful, and I love you guys! Oneward!**

* * *

Night after night, this scene repeated itself. They would walk to a bar, and Brennan would make sure that Angela got home safely, before driving herself. While Brennan certainly didn't always enjoy going away from her lab, she did note the fleeting joy in her chest when Angela would reach out and tug on her hand.

"This is fun, sweetie. Have some _fun," _ she begged, eyes light with joy, likely, Temperance guessed, a result of alcohol consumption. After a while, Angela could even tempt her into eating lunch with her on the Jeffersonian steps or in the park, though her rush to get back to the lab always astounded Angela. Who wants to spend their life being a lab rat, she reasoned. However, reluctantly Angela always returned with her, keeping a close eye to make sure the woman didn't keel over.

It was once when they had gone to the park that Angela found that piece of Brennan that she'd been looking for.

The artist had realized something the moment she'd set eyes on the forensic anthropologist, something that hurt her heart but also dazzled her into oblivion. There was pain beneath her expression. When she looked at the bodies, it wasn't merely in scientific detachment. Sure, when she was aware that Angela was around or when Zach was watching her work, the eyes of steel came up. Occasionally, however, Angela had caught her before Brennan realized that Angela was looking.

She treated the bones delicately. She would talk to the dead, though Brennan if confronted would have stated that she was merely talking to herself to figure out a conclusive cause of death. Brennan treated the bones like a sick human being, a sick child. She didn't see death when she saw these bones, Angela thought in wonder. She saw who the human had been.

_She cared too much…_

In this way, too, Angela saw the human that Temperance Brennan was. She wasn't cold or calculating. Not really. She didn't not care. She cared so much, so deeply, that it hurt to watch her care.

And it was breathtaking…

"Brennan…" she said softly, not wanting to disturb her concentration. However, the sharp look that Brennan gave her told her that she'd done just that. "Do you…Want to go out to eat or something?"

Brennan's hard eyes softened, and she put down the bones, closing her eyes.

"Of course…The park?"

Angela nodded and watched Brennan get ready, slowly, almost as though she never wanted to leave again, and slipped out with one last lingering look to the bone room.

"It's like limbo in there…"

Brennan looked up quickly and blinked.

"Religion is ridiculous…"

"Metaphorically, then. Thousands of lost souls…Can you imagine waiting for a loved one and finding out there right here?"

Brennan's eyes softened momentarily and she shrugged, walking quickly out and checking behind her frequently.

"Are you coming?" she asked. Angela, shocked, nodded and started after her.

They both walked to the park and sat watching the scenes around them. Quiet. It was usually quiet. Angela had become accustomed to this and had learned to even joy the silence. It was hard, but at least it wasn't impossible.

The silence was invaded when a young man, no older then thirteen, sprinted past them. An older male of about thirty five was running after him, calling the boys name harshly. Brennan, ever vigilant, stood up quickly and stood in the way of the older man. As soon as he was about to shove her out of the way, she grabbed his arm and flipped him, putting her foot on his chest.

"Why are you chasing him?" she asked, almost accusingly. Angela, eyes wide, stared between them and then looked at the boy, who had stopped and was panting, looking at Brennan as though she were suddenly his savior.

"Hey! I'll call the god damned cops on you lady! That's my kid! Let me up!"

Angela was about to go talk to the kid, when he came up slowly and looked between Brennan and the older man.

"Tell her! Tell her I'm your god damned father, Isaac!" he snarled. Isaac looked scared, suddenly, but then tried to stand up tall.

"He's not my dad…My dads dead…"

"I'm the next best thing you got, kid!" he snarled, but Brennan quickly turned her attention back to him and pressed down harder on his chest, making him gag. Angela wanted to do something, but couldn't.

"Go to the police. It's down the road. They'll keep you safe," she stated, her eyes glancing on the boys arm as he tried to hide it. Home names. She could have guessed.

"But…"

"They'll keep you safe until someone can help you. Tell them you're situation. I'll be down there later," she reassured. The young boy nodded and sprinted away, while the old man yelled at her.

"I ain't done nothing wrong! I took that kid in just like I've taken countless kids in. He's a damned trouble maker!"

"Well, you won't have to deal with him anymore, will you?" she asked, before pressing down harder and releasing, motioning to Angela to come with her. Brennan wasn't too worried about being attacked. They were in the open, after all, and she had a feeling that the older man had suddenly realized his mistake.

"What was that about?" Angela asked in disbelief as they walked away. Brennan looked down at her feet and shrugged.

"Did you see the list on his arm?" she asked, though it was factual in her tone of voice. Angela blinked.

"A tattoo or something, right?" she asked. Brennan shook her head.

"No. A list of names. Of families. A lot of us had them," she stated, and Angela was suddenly confused.

"What do you mean, a lot of us? You're a lot older than him, Bren…"

She hesitated for a moment, wondering whether she should tell her friend.

"I was a foster kid," she muttered, before picking up the pace and closing up for the rest of the day. Angela could see the shutters go down.

That small glance at Temperance Joy Brennan kept Angela walking besides her in silence.


	4. Chapter 4

**I don't own anything, read and review, and I hope ya'll enjoy!**

**Pairing-Brengela**

**Episode-Pre-Pilot**

* * *

"Brennan?"

Silence.

"Brennan. Pay attention to me…"

Nothing.

After checking on the boy, Brennan had retreated immediately back to the Jeffersonian. So far as Angela could tell, she hadn't left in days.

"Brennan. When's the last time you've slept?"

"Approximately seven hours ago, I took a two hour break in which I rested. Does that satisfy you're questioning?" she asked, almost harshly, though her tone softened when she saw the small amount of hurt in Angela's eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm new to socialization," she stated, before returning back to the bones.

Angela, unsure of what else to do, walked up and looked with mild disgust on them.

"Where was this guy from?" she asked, faking interest. Brennan looked up at her and raised a brow.

"Why do you care?"

"Because you do, sweetie. Tell me something I don't know about him,"

"How would I know what you know?"

"I know these are bones. That's it,"

Brennan turned a tibia over and set it down carefully.

"Seventeen years old at time of death. Death caused by gunshot wound to the head, or to be more precise, multiple. Likely a United States soldier from WW1, though I hate conjecture…"

"Seventeen?" Angela asked in shock, unsure how Brennan could be handling the bones of, in her own opinion, a kid.

"Yes. It was very common to lie about your age to get into the army. Especially since WW1 was played out to be the war to end all wars. The last chance at excitement," she said, almost bitterly, before setting one of the bones down. "Most ended up like this young man. Usually they were identified, however,"

Once more, Angela found it intriguing, the way she spoke about the bones. She was telling a story, even if she was relying facts. She seemed to know this young man. Not because of meeting him, but because of small bits and pieces she had found by studying the bones.

"You know their story, don't you?" Angela asked suddenly. "You relate to them. That's why you care. Isn't it?"

Brennan looked at her for the first time with almost unguarded eyes and shrugged.

"I can see what's in the bones, Ange. That's it,"

Angela nodded and walked down from the platform. Even if Brennan could only see what was written on the bones, here's what Angela saw-What was written on her face.

Grief.

When the day had finally ended, Angela once more asked Brennan to go get a drink. As always, they drunk, they danced a little, and Brennan made sure that Angela made it home safely. Their routine, it seemed, was inevitable.

Angela broke that routine, however, when she grabbed onto Brennan's arm before she left.

"Stay with me. Just for tonight,"

It was neither a command nor a request, because while Angela didn't expect her to stay, the words themselves seemed to anchor Temperance Brennan there. Later, she'd blame the alcohol. There was no logical reason as to why she should have stayed other then, of course, the intoxication which ultimately made her decisions slightly less logical. She didn't weight the options, the problems. She didn't ask what the consequences would be, because for the time being, there were no consequences. It was simply the moment.

For a second, she could see why Angela only lived in the moment.

"Of course," was her reply.

Nothing happened. Not like you'd think. Brennan offered to sleep on the couch, but Angela insisted they share a bed instead.

"No harm to it," she'd stated.

They wrapped their arms around each other, though to be fair they'd do so many times after this event. They didn't even kiss. While this would seem odd to Temperance with many others, it did not in this place, in this time. No, this was natural, it was normal.

For the first time in ages, Brennan even felt an odd surge of…Joy at the touch of another human being, however trivial.

"You're beautiful," Angela told her, though Brennan assured herself it was the alcohol talking. And of course, it was the alcohol that replied back.

"So are you…"

Brennan could not explain rationally, however, why when the alcohol left her system, she still felt herself longing for the same touch.

"I'll miss you, sweetie…"

_I love you, _she'd think, but she didn't believe in love, so instead she simply state.

"I'll see you at work, Ange. Be careful when you come in,"

It wasn't awkward, which both thanked the heavens for.

No. It simply was what it was. It existed in the moment. No long term commitments or contracts. Not even the ridiculousness of telling anyone.

Which, for the time being, was good enough for them.


	5. Chapter 5

**I changed the rating to be safe. Thanks to everyone and I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Now their every night ritual would consist of going to Angela's apartment. The rest of the night would be spent there. When Angela asked why they didn't spend the night at Brennan's house, she'd smile and shake her head.

"It's lonely there,"

Logically, of course, there was no reason to believe it was lonelier. But she felt it. Her first whispers of these illogical truths came in Angela's apartment, and after she left, she would forget that she had uttered them. She would get dressed, go to work and pretend like nothing had changed. She'd pretend that it was the alcohol that had caused her to go to Angela's place, even if instead of drinking wine or whisky, she would drink water instead.

"Bren. Come on. Come with me," she would whisper, her breath tickling Brennan's skin and making her quiver. She would be led away, slowly their cuddling morphing into kissing, kiss into touch. It was natural, Brennan assured herself, to need human touch. It was natural and it was good. To deny oneself such a primal thing was ridiculous.

Angela would slow down the drinking as well, to the point that she was no longer drunk but simply intoxicated by the presence beside her. She found herself dreading the bar visits and longing to go home early, but knowing that such a thing would ruin the ritualistic nature of the events. It seemed that their routine comforted Brennan, reminded her that there was nothing obligatory about this relationship, that when they both woke up in the morning there would be no empty promises that could not be fulfilled.

If this was what Brennan needed to be happy, Angela could give it and give it happily. If the thought of the future scared Brennan, then Angela could accept it easily. She lived in the present, after all.

To know another person's body like that, though, this came with baggage. Just in the way that Brennan could tell you about all three tattoo's that the artist had on her body, her birthmarks, Angela too could recite the scars on Brennan's body. Both could, by memory, tell you exactly how the other moved, how their hearts beat and their lungs worked. They knew each other's bodies. They knew each other's secrets.

The traveled the terrain of the other carefully, but with the enthusiasm of a young, eager school boy. For the first time in her life, Brennan noted that she was not, in the least bit, afraid of being with Angela. She wasn't afraid of Ange knowing her body almost as well as she did. She was comfortable with it.

She was happy with it.

"Sweetie?" she asked one night. The two rarely spoke, but Brennan opened her eyes willingly, willing her to speak. "You said you were in the system?"

Brennan nodded, almost lazily, and kissed Angela's neck.

"If you don't mind…Can I ask why?"

Angela was scared for the response. It was a scary thing, asking someone to revile a part of themselves to another person. It was unbelievably frightening. But Angela wanted to know, not to be nosey, not to hurt Brennan, but to make sure she was alright. To make sure Angela wouldn't hurt her. To understand how she could help her.

"My parents left when I was fifteen on Christmas Eve. My mom and I…We had a fight," she stated factually. Angela ran her hands through Brennan's hair and closed her eyes.

"Don't you have a brother?"

"Russ. He left too,"

Her fingers stopped over Brennan's back as she traced the scars, tens of hundreds that scattered from her.

"They hurt you…" she stated, and she wasn't only talking about her family. She meant everyone. She meant the foster families, she meant the mean people she must have run into in school. Everyone.

"Yes, that is correct."

"I won't hurt you, sweetie. You know that, don't you?"

It took a while for her to say anything. When Brennan finally spoke, she nodded slowly.

"Yes, I do believe I know that,"

They laid in bed, entangled in each other, until Angela spoke once more.

"Come to Italy with me."

It was a sudden request, one that Brennan couldn't help but feel floored by.

"When?"

"In a month. You have off, you've been talking about vacation for a while. Please, Bren. Come to Italy with me. It'll be fun,"

"I have a dig. I'm sorry, Ange. I wish I could,"

The denial stung sharply, but Angela nodded, none the less.

"Would you ever go with me?"

It took a while for Brennan to answer, and for a while Angela believed that that was her answer. Total silence. She believed that none of this was growing. And it ached. It hurt.

"Of course. Some other time,"

Relief flooded Angela's system, and the in happiness she kissed Brennan once more, until they dove into sweet bliss.


	6. Chapter 6

**I own nothing! Thanks to everyone, I hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

When Brennan left for the dig, Angela was left almost totally alone. However, she did go to Italy, she did look at artwork there, and when she came back, she did wait for Brennan. While she knew she shouldn't technically be worried, she was. Brennan was in a war zone, basically. She was terrified.

When the flight came in that day, Angela was waiting patiently within the airport, pacing back and forth. Twice she had to go to the front desk and ask about her flight, which had been delayed several times. Still, Angela waited. She waited and waited.

The fear that Brennan's flight would come in and Brennan would not be on it wrecked her. It was a very real possibility as well, because she had heard Brennan talk of going to foreign places and not coming back. While Angela dreamed that she meant going to Italy or France with her, she knew that Brennan was talking about places of death and war.

She was happy there. She was doing something, Brennan had admitted. She was giving identities to those who would have otherwise been forgotten.

And Angela had a feeling that, in a way, Brennan was also talking about herself. She was finding herself in these digs. The forgotten Temperance Brennan.

So it was to a grand relief of Angela when she saw that, not only was Brennan coming approaching her, but she seemed totally without physical injury. Angela got up quickly and walked up to her, embracing her friend. It was not unnoticed, however, that Brennan did not do the same motion to her. She was simply limp.

"Sweetie? Are you alright?" she asked when she pulled apart and looked into her friends unique eyes. It was obvious that she was forcing a smile when she nodded, it didn't meet her eyes. Hell, it didn't even really meet her lips. It looked more like she was trying to keep a hiss of pain from emitting from her lips.

"Yes, of course. How was Italy, Ange?" she asked. This, too, Angela found was stiff and hard to recognize. She wasn't really interested, not like she had been before. She'd instructed Angela to take picture after picture so that she could see the culture in Italy, but now it seemed as though the mere thought of hearing of it would bore her to death.

"It was fine…How was your dig, sweetie? Was it awful?"

She hesitated and shook her head.

"No. The _dig _was just fine,"

This was totally honest, but Angela couldn't help but notice that she'd emphasized the dig in particular. Had everything else been just fine? Identifying victims of genocide didn't sound fine to her, but Brennan was a different beast then the rest of them. However, she did know that something was bothering her, and Angela refused to let it go.

"Did something else happen, Bren?"

She stayed silent for a long time.

"Can we just go home?" she begged, before walking off.

"Sure…" Not another word was spoken.

Not in Angela's car, where she brought Brennan home and walked her upstairs. Not after Brennan had gotten changed, had showered. Not when Angela silently begged Brennan to let her into what had happened.

"Do you want me to stay here tonight, sweetie?" she asked, hoping the answer was yes. Of course, headstrong Brennan shook her head and looked at the door, indicating exactly where she wanted Angela. Out. Not wanting to intrude, she nodded and walked outside slowly, before turning her head.

"Hey, sweetie?"

No answer.

"Be careful, okay? I don't know what I'd do if something happened,"

Brennan nodded and turned on music before sitting on her couch, grabbing a book and trying to ignore the need to go the Jeffersonian, her safe house. Angela walked out slowly, half hoping that Brennan would call her back in, but of course, she didn't.

This was the first time she had ever felt denied by anyone. And it hurt.

She had to try to remind herself that none of this had any fixation on the future, and therefore she shouldn't expect it to.

She had, though. Expected it to. It felt like a slap from someone she loved.

Even if Brennan hadn't meant it.

* * *

While Brennan had wanted to spend the night at the Jeffersonian, she knew exhausted she'd do very little. So instead, she crawled into bed, shut off all but one of the lights and closed her eyes, praying for safe dreams. Of course, they didn't come.

Dreams, she knew, where just a minds projection. If we didn't dream, she reasoned, we'd go insane. Granted, we don't typically remember our dreams, but we do dream. This was the one part of psychology that she could accept, because it was mostly proven.

Dreams can't hurt you.

Nightmares can't hurt you.

But they could try.

She relived every event from the past week, after being captured, the constant threat of death, the gun to her head, the knife to her throat, to her back. No one would rescue her in her dreams. No one would save her when she awoke, either.

She was alone.

In a cold sweat, she'd awaken, darting up and searching for a weapon. It wasn't until she realized that it was her room, and not a tent or a prison cell, that her breath would start to calm down. Even then, she found her heart wouldn't stop racing, and her mind couldn't focus.

She couldn't fall back asleep.

It was midnight, and she couldn't sleep.

Reaching for her phone, her fingers hovered over the numbers before she pounded them in and heard the ringing sound. She heard three rings before she hung up, laying her head back.

_I'm being silly…What could Angela even do?_

It was after about thirty seconds that the phone rang on her end of the line, and Brennan picked up. To her dismay, her voice was frightened and little, which she detested.

"Hello?"

"Bren? Did you just call me?"

"Yeah…" she stated, not wanting to deny it. Temperance Brennan didn't lie. Angela was silent on the other end of the line before she piped up again.

"Do you need something?"

"No, no…I just…I feel the need to hear your voice…I can hang up now,"

"No, wait! What's wrong, Brennan?"

Silence once more, and Angela thought for a second the phone had been disconnected. She heard a loud sigh, however, which told her otherwise, and she waited.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Irrational of me. I'm sorry. It won't happen again," she stated, and hung up before Angela could reply.

The reply wasn't harsh, more scared then anything, and Angela felt the fleeting urge to call back. Instead, she sat back and looked at the ceiling, her heart longing to make the call back for the rest of the night.


	7. Chapter 7

**Update! Thanks to everyone for the reviews, read, etc. I don't own Bones.**

* * *

When Angela saw Brennan once more at work, she walked quickly up to her.

"Sweetie. What's going on? Why have you been acting so strange lately?"

Brennan looked up with dark eyes and shook her head, going back to her work. Angela couldn't let it go, could she?

"Everything is fine, Angela. Now please. Let me work,"

While she typically didn't give up that easily, her shoulders slumped and she closed her eyes. She could never get Temperance. She saw little glances and then moments later she would shuffle to the side, or put up the barricade. What she saw, of course, was beautiful. That's why she kept coming back. The scenery that was Temperance Brennan was beautiful, and rugged, and yes, contained more then its fair share of valleys and mountains. But in the end, getting to see that beauty, it was worth it.

Not for the first time, Angela spent her time looking at the screen in her office. One more thing she was finding.

It was more and more difficult to paint anything but what she saw in Brennan. She couldn't paint what she'd once been able to. She'd start and then stop.

She sometimes wondered if Brennan felt the same way about her work.

Sooner than later, Temperance hooked up with a man. Pete. Angela couldn't really blame her. Suddenly, their nightly bar conquests became less and less frequent, and Angela was stuck going home alone. Even if Pete had not come into the picture, something had morphed on her trip away from DC. Suddenly, Angela was regretting even working at the Jeffersonian. Without Brennan there to take her heart during the night, why should she show up to the Jeffersonian during the day?

To try and occupy herself, Angela too found people to take up her time. A couple of people here and there, though she found it hard to really focus on them. The one time that she'd actually had a good time again was when Roxy came back into town for a week, and Angela took off to spend time with her. While Roxy was certainly one of the first people she could truly say she loved, her heart strings didn't pull when they kissed and pulled away, smiling at each other.

When Roxy left, Angela was once again alone.

The feeling of this was indescribable. If she had try, she'd do it like so-At night, while she laid in bed, her arms would find their way around a shadow, and she would dream that it was someone who would love her like she loved them. It didn't stop the loneliness, however, the feeling of her chest being torn to shreds, wrecked, destroyed and then not taken care of after the bleeding had stopped.

It felt as though someone had taken a non-vital organ out and was unwilling to replace it. It wasn't necessary to stay alive, of course, but the pain was still there. And something was missing.

After taking a long shower one night, Angela heard the phone ring and walked quickly to pick it up. Seeing who it was on the caller ID, she picked up and answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Ange…Look, um, Pete and I broke up…I was wondering if you wanted to come over and help me with my book…Like you said you would,"

Angela couldn't help but notice the timid tone in her voice, as though realizing suddenly that she'd been neglecting her friend. Or maybe it was because Pete and her had broken up. In either case, Angela was already dressed and headed out the door by the time the phone call ended.

"Of course, sweetie. I'll be over soon,"

When Angela came in, the apartment unlocked, she saw Brennan staring blankly at a computer screen. Sitting next to her, she wrapped her arms around her friend and stared at the empty word document.

"Have you started yet, Bren?"

The shook her head and Angela nodded, going to the cupboard and pulling out a bottle of wine, along with two glasses before pouring it for the two of them. When she came back, Brennan still hadn't moved. While Angela wanted to prod her about what had happened, she instead sipped on her wine.

"Ange?" Brennan asked, almost timidly. Angela tilted her head and smiled at her, encouraging her to keep speaking. "It's come to my attention that…Many people seem to assume I'm rather cold…"

Angela raised her brows and nodded, wondering where this was going. Brennan looked up from her screen and bit her lip.

"Am I?"

Angela hesitated for a moment and took a sip of wine, tilting her head.

"Well, at first, it may come off that way. But Bren, you've been through a lot. It's only natural to try and protect yourself,"

"I hate psychology," she moaned, tilting her head back. Angela kept back a chuckle and nodded

"I know. I didn't really answer your question, either. It comes off that way at first, Bren, but I don't think you actually understand what a good person you are. And I don't think you let a lot of other people see that either," she stated. Brennan tilted her head and looked at her, almost skeptically, while Angela tried to think of the right thing to say.

"After everything you've been through, sweetie, I'd be under a rock. And you keep pressing forward. Do you know how amazingly breathtaking that is?" Angela asked. Brennan shook her head, not understanding. Angela, pursing her lips, went into her backpack and pulled out a sketchpad.

"This, right here, is my best attempt at capturing you. And this comes nowhere close," Angela stated. Roxy's words, _You are my muse, _came to mind, but that wasn't right. Brennan wasn't her muse. She was the reason that she was still living in DC. Brennan was the reason that she looked forward to something every day. Even when loneliness struck, the moment of seeing her in the morning was enough to make her think, 'I can make it through the day,'

It was a lonely sketch. Brennan looking over her bones, the small twinkle in her eyes, the half formed words on her lips. The delicate touch. Angela tried to put all of these things into a picture, and when Brennan stared at her drawing, her heart sunk.

"Who's that supposed to be?" she asked, and Angela gave her a look. You know, she wanted to whisper. You must know.

"It's so…" her voice finished it off. Sad, beautiful, lonely. Instead, she came up with what everyone had expected. "..accurate. Very good, Ange,"

She handed it back, and while Angela wanted to talk about it more, she couldn't bare it. Instead, she nodded and put it away, curling her legs under her and watching Brennan sip on the wine.

"Do you want to talk about Pete, sweetie?"

Hesitating, Brennan shook her head.

"No. I'd much rather talk about you. I've missed quite a bit, it seems,"

Angela licked her lips and smiled.

"We'll start with that and then go with your book. How about that?"

A small smile played on Brennan's lips.

"Of course. It sounds perfect,"


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys! Update once more. I hope ya'll are enjoying. Review if you have the time, but I really do just love writing these two. Thanks a lot for the support!**

* * *

"You can't go, Brennan! You know that, right? You cannot leave me here to go to Guatemala. Alright? You can't!"

The panicked tone in the artists voice did not surprise Brennan, nor did it make a large impact. Both were standing in Brennan's apartment, a bag of cloths at Brennan's feet, a look of distress on Angela's face.

"Angela…I'm unsure if you understand the work that I'll be doing. It's important work,"

"Of course it's important work! What you do here is also extremely important! Brennan, sweetie, listen to me. You. Cannot. Go there. It's dangerous. Brennan. _Please_. I'm begging you, here,"

Angela's eyes, brimming with tears, made Brennan hesitate for a moment. Gazing into her eyes was like looking into a deep, descending pool. Beautiful, tempting, mysterious. Of course, there was also the danger of jumping in and not knowing for sure if you'd come up.

Brennan _wanted _to drown in those eyes. To feel the danger that lurked.

"I have a job to do, Ange. You know that. That's why I became an Anthropologist. I have a job to do," she reasoned, before digging into her pocket and dangling a key in front of her, offering for Angela to take it.

"Why are you giving me your key, Brennan?"

"Keep up the place. Make sure no one breaks in. It's paid for. If you want, you can stay here instead of your apartment," she offered. Angela shook her head angrily, shoving her hand away.

"No! I'm not taking your key because _you aren't going!_ Did you hear me? You are not going to an area of genocide, Brennan! You are not allowed to go to a place like that! Do you understand?"

The anger in Angela's voice made Brennan flinch. Unused to the sound, she nodded and pulled back her hand, slipping the key in her pocket. She'd thought it was a nice gesture, though apparently she had miscalculated the social meaning of giving someone your key. She felt bad, though not for leaving. Mainly for making Angela feel bad. She found it extremely disheartening whenever Ange was sad.

"You're angry," she stated.

"Yes! I am! Didn't you think to talk to me?"

Brennan stared at her and tilted her head, blinking. She hadn't had to ask permission for anything since she'd been eighteen, and even in the system she tended to look out for herself, not really caring about what other people thought so long as their thoughts didn't hurt her. She found, however, that Angela's thoughts were hurting her. They were piercing her abdomen and causing her real, physical pain. A reaction, she assured herself, that would go away once she was on the plane to Guatemala.

"I knew you'd disapprove,"

"Obviously!" she stated.

The silence was so loud that it was deafening. Angela's shoulders slumped and she looked down at her feet, shaking her head.

"I'll be back in two months, Ange. Then we can…We can do whatever you want. Okay? I promise. I'll be back in two months,"

She assumed, falsely, that Angela was worried about the time spent apart. Brennan really couldn't see the difference. Time was time, and if spent valuably, time was something to be treasured. This was something useful she could do with her time, not romanticizing or wishing she could do more. No, being in Guatemala was a chance to physically do something, be someone important. Brennan couldn't explain to Angela, however.

Angela shook her head, and when she looked up her eyes had brimmed over just a little bit.

"What if you don't come back, Bren? What will I do then?"

"I'm assuming you mean…My death? Correct?

Stiffly, Brennan walked over to Angela and gripped one shoulder firmly, while lifting Angela's chin to look at her. This was usually Angela's job, but the reversal, while awkward to an outside source, felt right. She was mimicking, and even though it didn't look quite right, she was trying. And Angela realized that what she was doing meant she recognized what Ange had been doing for her.

"I can't promise that that won't happen…It's possible. But it's statistically unlikely. I'll be kept safe. I'm considered property of the United States, very valuable. And if it does…You certainly won't find another Forensic Anthropologist like me, but you'll be okay. Death is a natural part of life,"

"I won't find another _person _like you, sweetie. I'm not worried about the scientist. I'm worried about _you," _

The pain in her voice was dripping. It reached Brennan's ears and for a moment, she was unsure how to respond.

"I need to do something, Ange. I can't live a sheltered life just because…I have a person in it now. People. You, Hodgins, Mr. Addy…I became an anthropologist to do these things, to help with these things. To give faces to the dead. I can't just stop because I feel like I should. I can't put my feelings before those people,"

_What about my feelings? _Angela wanted to shout, but she kept quiet. This was why she had become so dazzled with Brennan in the first place. She couldn't have both. She couldn't have the wonder without the woman she'd first met. She couldn't have Brennan without the danger of field work.

The idea of never kissing Brennan, never feeling her, hell, never even seeing her again scared Angela beyond her deepest fears. So instead of fighting again, she embraced Brennan and kissed her. Eyes closed, she tried her best to preserve this in memory. To keep it forever. To never forget.

When they drew apart, each stared into the others eyes, and tried, not for the first time, to drown in them. To remember every detail. To be totally and utterly surrounded by them.

I love you was not spoken. It was felt, deep in both's bones.

Angela held out her hand and sighed.

"If you're really going, I'll take of your apartment. Just…Be careful, sweetie,"

Brennan looked into Angela's eyes and smiled, ever so softly.

"For you? Of course,"


	9. Chapter 9

**Couldn't get this off my mind. Thanks to everyone!**

**Episode-Pre-Pilot**

* * *

At first, Angela had simply gone to her apartment to do as Brennan had instructed. Check on things, clean up a little. Make sure no one had entered and tampered with anything, though Angela doubted that this would happen. The idea was ridiculous, to say the least.

When Brennan started to call her, once every three days, to let her know that everything was alright, that's when Angela started to feel the small amount of strain on her heart. The long, resentful days at the Jeffersonian without Brennan to brighten it, the pickup lines from Jack. The entire time, all she wanted to do was scream at him to shut the hell up, leave her alone.

When the loneliness ebbed at her heart, the key that Brennan had given her gained a new meaning. A better meaning then just taking care of things while she was away.

Angela would unlock the door, take off her shoes, drop her coat on Brennan's coach. She would take in the silence with closed eyes, imagine that Brennan was there as well, and then sit on the couch. For long, stretched out minutes, she would attempt to imagine what Brennan would say to her in these situations, but usually she could come up with nothing.

Their silence always spoke the loudest. Brennan's gaze always spoke louder than her words, and Angela's careful glances always spoke more then she could ever say to Brennan.

These things, these feelings, they were not uncomfortable, even laying in the living room, alone. They were comforting.

When night came and went, sometimes Angela would stay, drink some wine, count down the days until Brennan was safe, at home, where she belonged. The moon peered in through the window, keeping watch, and Angela found comfort in knowing that later, Brennan would look to the sky and see the same bright figure.

She never lay in Brennan's bed. Something told her it wouldn't be right. Perhaps it was the fact that Brennan had never invited her there for herself, or perhaps it was the mere taboo of sleeping in it without Brennan next to her. It didn't really matter. All that mattered was that she was here, engulfed in her presence for mere moments.

Brennan would occasionally ask about DC, but Angela could tell her mind wasn't really there. When one night came where Brennan admitted she wouldn't be able to call for a while, Angela's heart plunged, but she faked a happy tone.

"It's okay, sweetie. What is it? Three weeks until you come home?"

Twenty days, in fact, but Angela would never admit that she was counting.

After two weeks with no calls, Angela felt the restlessness in her chest, and she wanted to call down there, make sure everything was okay.

To try and distract herself, she painted almost every day, the canvas covered in depictions of what Angela could only imagine Brennan was surrounded by. When she finally got the call, her heart heaved a sigh of relief.

"You're okay!"

"Of course…I'll be home in three days. Do you think you could meet me at the airport?"

"Yeah. Hey, I miss you sweetie,"

"I'll see you soon,"

The abrupt ending didn't really bother her.

Brennan was coming home.


	10. Chapter 10

**Episode-Pilot**

**Pairing-Brengela**

* * *

Most of the night had been restless, the constant battle between exhaustion and worry in Angela's body never really giving up its hold. After getting up, she preoccupied herself by making breakfast and then going for a run, before looking at the clock and feeling the excitement in her chest.

Brennan was coming home!

The joy, in and of itself, was of enough power to replenish a small village. When she got into her car and drove to the airport, in total silence, she attempted to think of simple things. But one thought kept making its way into her brain.

Was Brennan going to be okay?

Last time she'd acted so odd, and while Angela wanted to know why, she wouldn't push for it. Still, the worry was there. Brennan was seeing horrible things, and as much as Angela knew that she liked to pretend that nothing touched her, it was very obvious that most things did.

The airport was crowded, not that Angela was surprised, but she felt the twinge of annoyance when she saw that that the arrival board was broken. Why wasn't anyone trying to fix it? A mixture of a multitude of negative emotions came into her body and, attempting to get information, she strolled up to a worker.

Who paid no heed…

Well, she knew what would get his attention.

When the sound and his looks, she smiled sweetly.

"Hey. The flight from Guatemala?"

"Tell me you said, 'Please' first?"

The sound of her voice made immediate contact, and Angela spun around, grinning excitedly.

"Sweetie!"

The sweet smile on her face made Angela's heart melt, and likewise, Brennan felt more than humor at her gestures. The idea that anyone cared was such a vague and unfamiliar idea, that the idea that Ange would do that for her made her grin a little. Maybe it made her heart skip a beat, but she knew scientifically, that wasn't possible.

As they walked down, talking about the trip, Angela almost felt a peace wash over her. Brennan was alright. She wasn't acting odd like last time. Thank god…

When Brennan suddenly turned around, an inch of fear crept up on Angela, but it wasn't until she'd actually knocked the guy down that Angela really registered what happened.

The explanation from him and then Brennan's reaction made her flinch. Great, she thought. Now I'm going to have to explain to people what the hell's happening.

Her best friend now looked like a murderous psychopath.

Why the hell did people judge so quickly?

* * *

Booth was back. And Angela wasn't totally certain how she felt about that.

On one hand, it added interest. It added another person that would try and get Brennan out and about. It added the chance to do more than reconstruct the long dead, though Angela was unsure how much longer she could bare doing THAT much.

On the other hand, of course, there was the fact that Angela could see, clearly, what was behind his eyes. And as much as she didn't like it, she would have to deal.

But he didn't dare hurt her.

After her and Brennan's conversation, the one about showing a bit of yourself, Angela had taken her out to drink. After a long night spent together, Angela had gotten up promptly and found Mr. FBI agent, before confronting him herself.

He was in his office, feet up, drinking a cup of coffee.

"Booth. You listen good, alright?"

He looked up and smiled, almost seductively at her.

"Angela, right? Bone's friend?"

"Look, Booth. I give you person permission to hound and bother Brennan as much as you want-she needs to get out. She needs to see other people, other than me. She needs to be around other people. But listen to me, and listen good. If you hurt her, I will hunt you down. I will find you. If you cause so much as a tear to fall down her face, and you don't fix it, I will find you. If you cause one restless night…You won't be happy when you see me on your doorstep,"

The speech, given promptly and without review, made Booth blink in surprise before he tilted his head.

"What's up with you and Bones anyways?"

"She's my best friend. And I love her. And if you screw her up, I will know. Got it?"

He nodded, raised his glass.

"Got it. Can you tell me why she is the way that she is, though? Not being rude. I just…I don't always understand,"

Angela blinked and leaned against the wall, sighing.

"Just stick with her for a while. You'll see something. Just like I did,"

Turning around, she tried to stop the bitter churning in her chest.

It wasn't what was best for her, but she knew this much.

It was best for Brennan.

That's all she really wanted.


	11. Chapter 11

**Episode-Pilot**

**Pairing-Brengela**

**Yes, I kind of wrote the pilot yesterday, but I wanted to explore a different aspect. Thanks to everyone and I don't own Bones!**

* * *

"What if I'm only good with bones and lousy with people?"

"People like you!"

"I don't care if men like me!"

_I want you to like me…_

"Well that was a jump, people to men…"

"I HATE psychology,"

That much was true. Angela had found that out early, when she'd attempted to make Brennan see how her actions might have been because of her younger upbringing. She'd freaked. Not that Angela blamed her. Closing her eyes and grabbing Brennan's hand, she sat them both down.

"Did you ever think the reason that you come off so distant is because you care too much?"

This, too, Angela had learned. When Brennan had admitted that whenever she saw cops handling the dead, she wanted to pounce on them, protect those who had no chance of protecting themselves. She could feel the passion coming off of Brennan when she saw those bones, even if she tried to hide it as scientific inquiry.

"Want a piece of advice? Give up a piece of yourself, something you're not sure if you want anyone to know,"

It was as much for Booth and Brennan as it was for Angela. She'd managed to get past part of Brennan's core, had managed to get her to trust her, but still she held firm. She wasn't cold…Angela knew this. Sometimes, however, she felt as though she was unsure why exactly she was still here.

Why was she putting so much energy into Brennan? Why did she care?

Brennan was beautiful, and not in the traditional sense. Sure, she was physically very beautiful. That much was obvious. She hadn't been kidding when she said that men liked her. Men did like her. As did women. Still, very few had managed to see that other beauty, that beauty that so entranced and bothered Angela on lonely nights. What was it? She couldn't capture it with her art, she couldn't tell it to the press. It was a beauty that was…Incomprehensible.

It wasn't confidence, or cocky gesture, though these things Angela admired very much.

It wasn't the way she moved, though she moved very well. It wasn't the way her lips touched Angela's. These things, while beautiful, were not the thing that kept Angela at bay.

It was the core, the center of Brennan. If she wrote a whole novel, Angela didn't think she could explain exactly what it was. It was too confusing, too complicated, and mostly, too great for the average human to comprehend.

How could she tell anyone these things and have them understand? They wouldn't listen without judging. This much Angela had learned.

They went home together after drinks, and once more they lay in bed. Brennan mumbled those words again, and Angela's heart broke.

"My most meaningful relationships are with the dead,"

"Am I dead, Sweetie?"

"No. Your heart is still beating,"

"Then listen to it. Because it's yours for tonight,"

That's all Angela could ever promise. A night, that night, that night that they held each other. She couldn't promise forever, because neither believed in eternal and transcendent love. They only believed in the night. This suited both just fine.

Brennan lay next to her, her breath coming in and out silently.

"And tomorrow?"

"We're best friends again. No strings, Bren. I told you from the beginning,"

She nodded, happy for the arrangement.

"Good."


	12. Chapter 12

**Pairing-Brengela**

**Episode-The Man in the Fallout Shelter**

**Thanks for the reads and reviews! Note from here on out we may not have it in order. Also, I haven't seen a lot of these episodes in a long time, so if I get something wrong, I'm really sorry. If you have any suggestions for Brengela type prompts, let me know!**

* * *

"I need you. Friends don't let friends photocopy their butts at company Christmas parties!" Angela stated, running around. Brennan's eyes flicked upwards as she withheld a smile, then looked back down. Finally, giving into temptation, Brennan started down with Angela. Excited, she grabbed Brennan's hand and started off once more.

Until Booth came in.

_You ruin everything, don't you?_

Angela wanted to whine to him, but seeing the look on Brennan's face, Angela sighed.

"Come _on," _she stated. Brennan looked down and then looked at Booth, raising a brow.

"Booth, go with Angela to the party and make sure-"

Angela held up her hands.

"Thanks, sweetie. I can always count on you,"

Brennan, taking it as a complement, nodded and looked at the remains that Booth had brought it.

While Angela did wait up, watching the boys haul in alcohol, when finally everyone was crowded around she made her way towards them.

"Okay you people, listen to me,"

Everyone was suddenly totally attentive.

"There is a party upstairs. A Christmas party. We're going up there. We're going to talk to some people," she gave Brennan a look, "we're going to sing some carols, we're going to drink some eggnog,"

Suddenly cutting off.

"YOU are going to kiss me under the mistletoe. On the lips,"

This was noted by Brennan, who's eyes flashed slightly.

"I might kiss you guys under the mistletoe too," she stated, which made Brennan feel slightly more secure. She knew Angela wasn't attracted to Zach.

"And maybe even you,"

For a second, Brennan's heart leapt, but she had to keep a stoic look on her face.

"In a festive, non-lesbian manner. But we ARE going to that party,"

Brennan had to keep from snorting and instead looked down at the remains. She really had to finish this first, and Angela knew that. Anyways, she hated Christmas. A lot. And Angela should have known that by now.

She'd be down later, and maybe she'd take Angela away from the party, but that was about it. She didn't do Christmas. She hadn't for years.

Until the alarm went off, Brennan had managed to push those thoughts behind her, instead paying attention to the bones. However, when the alarm went off, her first instinct was to find Angela and get her out.

She couldn't. It was too late.

Valley fever, they learned. And almost immediately, Brennan felt bad for not going upstairs with Angela to party. In fact, after figuring out sleeping arrangements, Brennan had been surprised that Angela hadn't separated from her immediately.

In fact, Angela wasn't angry at all. The way in which Brennan had been acting made her a little more than worried.

As they lay there, head to head, Angela had to keep from turning over and trying to kiss Brennan. The pain that had been in her eyes was unmistakable.

She was remembering something.

And it wasn't until later that Angela figured out what it had been.

Throughout the relative time they spent together, putting together a Christmas, Angela kept her eyes on Brennan. Brennan, who worked so hard to figure out how to put things together. Brennan, who tried to make other peoples lives better, when she couldn't put together her own. Brennan, who was so unmistakably beautiful, who was so tender and easy to break. Brennan, Brennan, Brennan…

Angela wanted to engulf her and take away her pain. To become one and steal away that hurt, to reach deep into her heart and make sure that no one would ever hurt her again.

When they were let go, Angela still wanted to watch her, but decided that perhaps it wasn't the best bet.

Her dad had picked Angela up, and they'd talked for a little while. However, Angela kept thinking back to her friend, her best friend, and then looked up at her father.

"Hey, dad. I know it's just been you and me since Mom died, but do you think…One of my friends really doesn't have anyone," she stumbled, thinking her father would scold her. Instead, he simply shrugged and smiled.

"Of course, baby doll. Where to?"

"Jeffersonian…" she stated, knowing there was no other place where Brennan would be.

She'd been right. However, Brennan wasn't in her office. Instead, she was by the holographic tree. Angela stood, perched outside the door as she watched Brennan look at the cards.

She didn't want to disrupt this moment. No matter how much it hurt.

"Sweetie," she whispered after a while, and Brennan looked up, the mask suddenly on again, and she tried to hide the cards. Angela smiled and sat down next to her, looking at her hands.

"Did you get the Christmas present you wanted?" she asked. Brennan nodded, looking at her lap.

"Shouldn't you be with your dad, Ange?" she asked. "I have bones to identify. WW1," she stated. Angela smiled and grabbed her hand, placing it on her leg.

"Come with me. It's just me and Dad. I promise, he won't bite,"

Brennan looked up in surprise and shook her head.

"Ange, I couldn't-"

"Do it for me. No one should be alone on Christmas, Sweetie. I'd just be worried,"

Brennan looked deep into her eyes, and then nodded, laying her head on her friends shoulder before straightening up.

After all was said and done, food eaten and gifts exchanged, Angela offered to let Brennan stay over once more. Because it was late, and because she was tired, she nodded and got changed, ready to sleep in the living room. When Angela turned to her father, ready to say goodnight, he grabbed her shoulder.

"Be good to her, Angie. She's one of the few I've liked," he chuckled. Angela's eyes widened slightly as she shook her head.

"What are you talking about, dad?"

He shrugged and made his way to Angela's guest room. She wanted to know what he'd seen, but stayed silent for fear of saying something while Brennan was still around to hear it. Before heading to bed, they both embraced.

Angela couldn't help but hear Brennan's comment.

"A festive, non lesbian way, huh?"

Angela grinned.

"Yeah,"

No mistletoe and fear of being caught caused them not to kiss, but the touch was enough.

Electrifying, almost.

The first good Christmas in a long time.


	13. Chapter 13

**Pairing-Brengela**

**Episode-Post Aliens in a Spaceship**

**Italizised quote is from "Deja Dead" by Kathy Reichs. Read and review, por favor!**

* * *

At first it hadn't been bad. Booth had stayed with her for a long time, guarding her, but when she'd insisted he leave her alone, and he'd done so, the nightmares started to get bad.

It wasn't violent at first. Just…A replay. Hodgins dying in front of her, bleeding out. The last breath that she'd ever breathe trapped in her throat. It was just…What she'd known at the time. It made sense to have THOSE dreams. Those dreams held meaning. They existed. They had occurred. When they started to get harsher, though, her mind couldn't always comprehend it.

Hodgins, bleeding out, not just from his legs. A corpse on her table.

Angela being taken, and finding her days too late. The warm touch of her best friend suddenly turned cold.

A reverse sequence, where it was BRENNAN who was the killer. Where Brennan was the one to destroy.

_So…What do I do? I dig up bodies. I examine bones._

She could never save them. It never worked out that way.

Usually, though, she could bare them. She'd dealt with nightmares most of her life. She knew what they entailed. She had been the bitter receiver of such ghoulish dreams since fifteen. It wasn't unusual. Sometimes, they didn't even feel real.

Except when they did.

It was a warm night when she'd gone to bed, alone. Her late night endeavors with Angela had decreased, her friend preferring the company of one Jack Hodgins. Brennan didn't mind. The love in Jack's eyes had been unmistakable, almost comparable to her own. Almost. Most of the windows in her apartment had been opened, the fan spinning lightly above her head. No covers on top of her body.

Sleep came easily to her that night, which was rare. Usually it took long periods of time, but she thanked her body when the sleep came. It was much needed.

Nightmares invaded like infantry, undetected by any sensors. It wasn't until it had invaded her deepest psyche that she began to panic.

Angela, dead on her table. The sudden realization that it had been her, Brennan, to put her there. Why? She didn't know. Panic clocked in and for a moment, her mind could pretend it was a sick joke.

It wasn't.

Sympathies were passed to her, though the realization that SHE had done this made her stomach curl. It wasn't until much later, when she worked on the bones, that the corpse started to rise, to glare, to yell and to scream.

Hatred, foul and angry, rushed through her body.

'You let me die,'

"No!" Brennan yelled, darting up in bed, eyes wide and panicking. Her hand was absently reaching for a weapon, but when she realized the danger was not imminent, she relaxed and sunk down into her bed. Staring at the wall in front of her, Brennan could imagine every last sickening detail of her nightmare, and noted that her heart wouldn't stop hammering.

Irrational though it was, she dove for a phone, closed her eyes and dialed the number.

Someone other then Angela picked up. A sleepy voice replied,

"Ello? Who's calling at this time of the night?"

Brennan blinked, not really surprised, before shaking her head.

"It's Doctor Brennan. Is Angela there?" she asked.

"Oh, hey Doctor B! Yeah, yeah she's here…Just a sec,"

The ruffling sound met her ear and Brennan flinched before holding the phone away from her ear, and closing her eyes tightly.

"Hey, Sweetie. What's up? You don't have a case or something, right? It's three in the morning,"

"I can't sleep," Brennan said suddenly, rashly. The silence that met her on the other end was anything but reassuring. "I…I'm having nightmares, Ange…I'm…"

"Afraid?" Angela asked for her. Brennan's brows furrowed and she shook her head.

"No, not quiet. I'm sorry for bothering you, Ange. Have a good night-"

"Wh-ho there, sweetie. I'll be right over,"

"What about doctor Hodgins?"

"You need me for one night? I'm sure he understands,"

It ended at that, and Brennan closed her eyes, half grateful, half terrified. Leaving Hodgins had risks, and they both knew it. However, as if on clockwork, Angela arrived fifteen minutes later, knocking on her door.

"Sweetie, it's me. Open up,"

Tense, she made her way to the door and opened it, before being embraced by Angela's arms.

"Oh, sweetie. You should have called earlier,"

"I was unaware-"

"This isn't the first time, is it? You know you can call me for anything,"

Ushering her over to the couch, Angela perched on the other side and grabbed her hand.

"You wanna talk about it?"

Brennan shook her head.

"Not particularly, no,"

"Do you want to talk about IT?"

The change was not in the word, but it was in the meaning. It just meant the dream. IT meant what had happened.

"I just…I thought we were going to die. I've believed I would die before. But I find it odd…I was at least content that I was with someone I knew,"

Angela nodded, the weird sensation this remark had not going away. She'd believed she would die before. Angela knew this. Only once, though. She'd never known there had been multiple times. And the fact that she was happy that she wouldn't die alone…It was a sad remark. One that made Angela's heart long for Brennan's ability to be content.

"He loves you,"

Angela nodded.

"I know."

"And you can only love one person the most, can't you? So he's that person for you,"

Angela wasn't sure how to explain this. Because it had been so long since she'd known how to. She fell love with ever person she'd ever dated. She'd never not loved someone whom she went with. But it faded away, usually. With Brennan, it hadn't. It hadn't been mere interest that kept her at bay.

"It's more complicated then that, sweetie. I do love you, though,"

"What if I'm like the gravedigger?" Brennan asked suddenly. "What if I'm cold and calculating and I just…I experiment. What if I'm like them? I'm not like normal people,"

Angela stroked her hair and shook her head.

"But you aren't him, sweetie. You aren't cold. You're very warm. And sweet. Not normal, no, but where's the fun in that? Why would you think you're like him?"

"I have nightmares where I AM him…"

Angela stayed silent.

"They're just dreams, sweetie. They can't hurt us,"

Shrugging, Brennan leaned heavily into her.

"Can you stay?" she begged softly. Angela smiled.

"Course. I was planning on it,"


	14. Chapter 14

**Pairing-As always, Brengela is my heart and soul.**

**Episode-The Skull in the Desert**

**Note-This is going to be significantly shorter, hopefully I'll do another The Skull in the Desert one soon. Thanks to everyone! Seriously, you guys are great. **

* * *

It wasn't so much a reaction as it was basic instinct when Brennan got the call. Perhaps she COULD compare it to a reaction, Angela being the catalyst. Brennan, if using chemistry as a reference, would have called herself a noble gas, however, and they didn't react.

It was safe to say, therefore, that this was an instinct.

Protective instinct, pack instinct. She wasn't sure what to call it. But it was an instinct, one that had managed to carve its way into her mind. The instant the sound of worry or pain came into her ears, and her mind registered the voice as Angela's, her body wanted to lurch into motion, to fix the problem and make sure her friend was still okay.

She hesitated to write it off as social ties. It felt like more then that. But feelings were unreliable and so she simply landed on logic. Angela had taken care of her. Now it was Brennan's turn to do the same. Simple, fact based logic. An ear for an ear, she'd say, even if Booth would reply, angrily, with-

'Tooth for a tooth, Bones! And that's for revenge!'

It didn't matter. What mattered was the fact that Angela needed her.

She already had a suitcase in her workspace and was leaving, almost without note. The idea of getting fired didn't occur to her. Even if it had, she'd have left in a heartbeat.

This was Ange, after all. Who had spent countless nights, arms wrapped around her. Who had never failed to come. Brennan wouldn't leave her in her time of need. That wasn't fair.

And her mind wouldn't let her think about leaving her friend.

Right before leaving on the plane, she called Angela's phone.

"I'll be there soon, Ange. Keep safe until I get there,"


	15. Chapter 15

**Pairing-Brengela**

**Episode-A Skull in the Desert**

**Note-There will be more of these since this was such a strong episode in their relationship. As always, if you have any requests, let me know.**

* * *

"No…"

Brennan flinched away and looked into Angela's eyes, tilting her head. Touch was a way of showing caring, wasn't it? Wasn't that what Angela had taught her? Had she done something wrong?

"What?"

"Brennan, if you hug me and act all caring, it's because you believe Kirk is dead or was sleeping with Dahni,"

She wasn't going to lie and say that it hadn't occurred to her, but that wasn't it. It was more along the lines that she was seeing the depths of pain in the artist eyes, and she was trying to do the right thing. As much as she couldn't explain WHY it was, she hurt a little when she saw Angela like this. It wasn't right, the artist acting like this. Brennan didn't like it, and she wanted to ease it. Wasn't this what Angela did for her when she felt bad?

"No it's because…I'm sorry my friend is upset because someone she loves is missing,"

Angela had nodded, stated that she could buy that, and embraced Brennan tightly. Even if Bren was lying, it was a sweet gesture. It was a nice gesture that meant more to her then Brennan could ever understand. A learned gesture, a trying gesture, and more than anything, it was a gesture that showed Angela that she wasn't alone, that Brennan wasn't just here for work.

The pure attention, in fact, showed her this too. Brennan wasn't just paying attention to the case. Her attention had shifted to Angela.

"If you don't mind, I'm going to head to bed,"

Brennan had nodded, feeling her attention shift once more, though in the back of her head she was hoping that Angela would be alright for the night. She wished she knew exactly what to do. She wished that she knew if she was doing anything right.

However, she didn't think about the repercussions of being here. The responsibility. She usually had to outlay the possibilities of keeping up a friendship, a relationship, the dangers. That didn't cross mind when she watched Angela drift into the next room.

After calling Booth, she hung up and stared out the window into the desert sky. It was a much prettier sky compared to Afghanistan and Iraq. More serene. Granted, she wasn't worried about her life right now. More so, she was worried about Angela's. What would become of the girl if it WAS Kirk.

Even if she didn't want to admit it, it was him. She knew it. Not scientifically, but with what Booth would call a "gut feeling". She didn't like depending on those, though, and she knew it was irrational. So she hadn't been lying. She couldn't know if it was Kirk. Not enough details or information.

Getting up slowly, she unfolded the bed under the couch and sat, cross legged, before crawling in, shutting her eyes and trying to fall asleep. Get a wink of sleep before the next morning.

Angela, however, was simply sitting on _their _bed. Her's and Kirk's. For three weeks out of the year, this was theirs. No one else's. No one could take that away.

Except maybe her fears. Her fears would take that away.

Sighing, Angela finally made her way up and slowly walked into the next room, where Brennan was laid out on the bed. Her eyes shifted around before Angela, gripping a pillow, walked slowly over and sat down softly, hoping not to disturb the anthropologist. No such luck.

Brennan quickly darted up, her hands searching for a weapon, until she realized that it was Angela there, not someone who wanted to hurt them. Her breathing slowly down, she stared at Angela and attempted a smile.

"Hey, Ange. You need something? It isn't morning yet, is it?"

She couldn't help but notice the small traces of tears down the artists face, and Brennan had to keep herself still. She didn't want to embrace her if that was the wrong thing to do. Angela simply shook her head and started to slowly lay down, looking at Brennan as if asking if it was okay.

"Course," she stated, laying down as well.

"I shouldn't be crying," she whispered. Brennan nodded, outstretching her arm and trying to hold Angela close. "We don't even know if it's him,"

"It might not be," Brennan stated, rubbing her shoulder. Angela shook her head.

"But he's still gone,"

"Yes," Brennan stated, confused as to where this was going.

"And it doesn't feel right to sleep there without him,"

Brennan nodded once more, tilting her head.

"And we can't do anything, because the three weeks still aren't up and he…He might still be…"

Brennan nodded once more, unsure if this meant she should withdraw her hand or not.

"But could you just…You know…Make it feel like I have someone tonight,"

Again, she didn't quite understand, but Brennan nodded.

"You do have someone, Ange. Even if that someone is me,"

Angela nodded and then closed her eyes. Feeling the stab in her gut, Brennan sighed. Maybe tomorrow would be better.


	16. Chapter 16

**Pairing-Brengela**

**Episode-Skull in the Desert**

* * *

Yeah, well, you can't trust you eyes out here. Not your eyes alone. You know, Kirk said that if you stood still long enough, that the desert would actually speak to you. Show you some kind of truth

Brennan knew that was utterly ridiculous. The desert can't actually speak. It's not alive. It has alive things in it, of course, but 'speaking' was a relative term, usually applied only to humans. You use words to speak. The desert, a land of sand, dust and hardy animals, it can't actually speak to you.

So then why had she gone with Angela when she had pointed to where Dahni was?

Logically, it didn't make any sense. She could go through what she wanted, say that the only logical conclusion was that Angela had gone through the facts and figured it out subconsciously. The look, though. The look on Angela's face.

She'd known.

It wasn't just that, though. It was trust. Not faith. Faith was illogical. Brennan knew what Angela was capable of, just as in the years she'd see what Booth was capable of. She knew that Angela could detect things better then any other human that she'd ever met. And she knew, when she looked into Angela's eyes, that it wasn't just blind faith that caused her to point towards Dahni.

Angela had known.

When they'd come back to the house, Angela would sit down, staring into nothingness.

"He loved me," she stated, and Brennan looked up in surprise.

"Yes," she said, nodding. "For three weeks a year,"

Angela had explained this to her. Three weeks a year. Just as how Angela and Brennan's arrangement was not all the time. It was a part time commitment.

"No. He loved me all the time. It was me that couldn't handle more then three weeks a year,"

She paused.

"I'm afraid that I don't have a generous heart. I'm afraid I won't have the chance I had with Kirk ever again,"

At first, it was the generous heart comment that made Brennan reel. Not a generous heart? Had she ever seen herself? Thought about herself before she went to bed? She was working in hell to keep an eye on Brennan. She was pulling the anthropologist out of hell when she could be having fun. She was willing to let Brennan have space and time. How did she not have a generous heart?

So she wasn't lying when she said,

"You will,"

Get another chance,that was.

Angela looked at her skeptically. She knew Brennan, she knew her best friend. She didn't make assumptions like that. She had to have something to back it up.

"How do you know?"

"Because nothing in this universe happens just once, Angela. Nothing. Infinity goes in both directions. There is no unique event, no singular moment."

No singular moment. As a teenager in foster care, she'd found this comforting. You will always get another chance. Always.

Angela tried to play it off and laugh.

"I don't know what that means,"

"It means you'll get another chance…"

"You promise?" Angela asks, her body shaking lightly. Nodding, Brennan smiled softly at her. "From your heart?"

Brennan hated that term. You can't feel things with your heart, you can't promise with it. Your heart is simply a blood pumping organ, nothing more.

"Even better. With my head. And yes, Angela, I promise-with my heart, you will get another chance,"

The embrace had not caught her off guard. Angela's hair meeting with hers, their body almost connecting. The cells never actually meet, it's a nerve reaction that catches "touch", but that didn't make it any less of a feeling…

"Do I have a shot with you?" she whispered, right as soon as Booth came in. Brennan asked as though she couldn't hear it.

Not here, she thought. Maybe when they got home. Maybe then.

She was learning, steadily, from Angela.

And Angela was learning from her.

She wouldn't miss her second chance.


	17. Chapter 17

**Pairing-Brengela**

**Episode-Doctor in the Photo**

**Note-There is no way that I think I could ever exemplify the emotions in this episode. In and of itself, it was probably an episode that touched me the most, though I was hesitant at first to even WATCH it. I had mono at the time, was miserable, and the idea of watching an emotional episode, as I'd heard it was, wasn't too appealing. However, after watching it, I was glad that I did. In fact, it made me feel slightly better, as odd sounding as that is. Anyways, this lengthy note does have a purpose. The fact of the matter is that I can't actually capture what happened in that episode. My writing could never match up. But I had the idea for a while about what exactly was going through everyone else's minds, since the Brennan-centric episode truly displayed how truly alone and isolated she felt. Perhaps I will experiment with this more, though I'm unsure how much I really want to tinker with that episode.**

**Note that this is a different style then I usually write with in this particular story. If you don't like it, I'm sorry. **

**As always, I don't own Bones. Review if you'd like. **

* * *

_Sweetie, when you describe people in generalities like age, sex and size, it fits a lot of people._

But it hadn't _just _been that. Angela had also stated that a lot of people like dolphins. It wasn't even the fact that her mind was messing with her, it was the fact that she couldn't understand, couldn't comprehend how someone so smart, someone with so much to give the world, managed to disappear without anyone noticing.

How could you just disappear without anyone caring? How was that possible?

Was that going to happen to Brennan?

Would no one care?

In her head, she knew it shouldn't matter. After all, there's absolutely nothing after life. That's it. It wasn't as if she would know if anyone cared after she died. Granted, time goes in both directions, how we perceive it isn't how it actually is, but the idea of disappearing in the perceived time didn't sit well. She knew that there was no one out there intellectually who could compete. Hell, she was one of a kind in that field. But so was Laura. Who had noticed?

Why was her brain messing with her?

_Why_?

Was it betraying her? Had the years in war zones and the surrounding of death, had it decided to play games with her and betray her? Her mind was her instrument. She'd never been able to trust anything or anyone nearly as much as she'd been able to trust her mind.

_Who can trust a mind that's constantly changing?_

That was the thing. Brennan had never had the challenge before, the world 'turning upside down' as Micah had called it. She'd managed to keep herself safe for the longest time, not let anyone close. It was a good tactic. If you keep people at arm's length, they can't betray you, they can't lie to you. Bones don't lie to you. You can trust bones. Humans are much more unpredictable.

_How-how come I understand every word you say? Always. I don't have that with anyone else. Sometimes I just hear noise._

For a while, that hadn't been the case. Angela's voice hadn't been white noise. But with the baby, Hodgins…It seemed as though they were on different radio frequencies, static coming in when Brennan couldn't comprehend. It had been like that for so long with everyone, and when Angela had came…The sound had disappeared. She'd understood ninety nine percent of it.

Then their barriers seemed to come up. Angela didn't seem to understand anymore. Not that Brennan minded all that much, or at least that's what she told herself. This way, they wouldn't hurt each other.

She couldn't hurt Angela. She wouldn't hurt Booth. Everyone was at a safe reach.

_We don't actually fear death. We fear that no one will notice our absence._

Would Ange even notice? This thought played in her head. Surely Laura had to have some friends. Maybe one as close as Angela. And maybe they split apart for a while, and maybe, now that she was dead, her friend would forget.

Everyone forgets sooner or later. The world has to keep turning. If humans couldn't adapt to get over death, the species would cease to exist.

The bed was cold when she laid on it, holding herself tightly. She'd admitted what she needed to admit to Booth, but the idea of telling Angela hurt too much. She'd been denied already. She didn't need another.

_I'm sad._

Not depressed. Sad. Sure, she was cold, and wet, and she was doubting everything she'd ever known. Sad was an adequate describing word. Not overpowered, not overplayed. Sad and lonely, really. She could adjust. Humans have adapt, after all.

_That's so much better then dead. Or even dead inside._

For a second, her mind quieted as these words sped by. Her heart calmed, her chills ceased to exist.

Everything…Returned to normal.

Or not normal. Things didn't flip back in an instant. She was still sad. There was no doubt about that.

There was still the lingering question of 'What if' laced between her thoughts.

As long as she'd live, these questions would ponder her.

"Sweetie?" the sound of knocking, softly on her door, forced Brennan to open her eyes. "Can you open up?"

Brennan forced herself up and went to the door, opening it slowly. When she saw her best friend standing in the doorway, a sad smile on her face, she walked back a little.

"Can I come in?" she asked softly. Brennan nodded and watched as Angela made her way, slowly, to the couch where she had spent so much time years ago. She hesitated before she sat down, looking at Brennan as though for permission before sitting down. The old habit of doing as you pleased in this apartment no longer existed. The thread, stretching from burden, were showing on their friendship.

Brennan nodded and Angela sat down, before looking at her and tilting her head.

"It's…Midnight, Ange. What are you doing here?"

Angela took in her exterior and sighed.

"It's midnight, Bren. Why are you soaking wet?"

Brennan shrugged again.

"I've been worried about you, sweetie," she whispered, holding out her hand and offering it to Brennan. She didn't take it. Instead she looked blankly.

"You aren't talking to me like you used to. You're acting…Strange. Sweetie. Talk to me,"

Silence.

"Please. Let me in. I'm begging,"

"Did Booth send you over here?" she asked suddenly, staring. Angela was visibly taken aback as she shook her head.

"What? No! Why? Was he here earlier?" she asked, a spark in her eyes. Brennan couldn't tell if it was anger or something else. "Did he do something?"

Brennan wanted to retort angrily, but she didn't have the strength. No, she wanted to yell. No, Booth didn't do anything. It wasn't just Booth. It's everyone! Why can't someone just…Explain to me how the hell this is supposed to work.

She would have asked Angela, but she couldn't tell if she was part of the problem or not.

"Brennan. Talk to me. What's going on? Why are you so wet? Why are you so sad? What happened, sweetie?"

Brennan's shoulders slumped, and she closed her eyes.

"I just…I am. Things happened, okay? You'll probably hear it from Booth later," she stated. Not bitterly, simply factually, getting up and starting towards her room again. Angela watched her and then shook her head.

"I want to hear it from you, Bren!" she stated, staring. This stopped Brennan in her tracks, as she looked over her shoulder.

"You haven't been listening to me all week. Why would you now?"

Angela took a sharp inhale and tried to think back. What? Was it this case? Was it really bothering Brennan that much?

"Dr. Eames?" she asked, opening her eyes. "Are you still worried that you're like her?"

Brennan stayed silent.

"Bren, people would care. Okay? Don't get any idea's!"

This thought terrified her. The idea of losing her best friend, no matter how strained their friendship had become, made her stomach churn and her body ache. She loved Brennan. Maybe not in the same way she'd used to, maybe a little bit, but she loved Brennan. She loved her.

Brennan wasn't…

"I'm not thinking clearly, that's all. It'll come back to me later,"

No way, Brennan wasn't…

"Bren. Listen to me. You're okay, right? By not thinking correctly, you don't mean…"

She was silent when she turned around.

"I'm just sad, Angela. And I'm not thinking like I used to. But I'm fine. I'll be just fine,"

This didn't satisfy Angela, who got up, rather painfully, and walked over to Brennan, taking her hands, however limp, and making Brennan look at her.

"Temperance Brennan. You are my best friend, alright? You know that. Right?"

Brennan stared blankly and shrugged. Gritting her teeth, Angela tried again.

"Right?"

This time, she was met with a nod.

"You know I love you. Right?"

Another short nod.

"And you know that I would do anything for you, right?"

She wasn't sure of this, but she nodded, not wanting more trouble. Angela shook her head.

"Then listen good. I'm staying here tonight. And in the morning, we are going to talk this out. As long as you're awake, I'm awake. I will chain myself to you if necessary. When the morning comes up, I'm going to make you breakfast, and you will tell me everything. Alright?"

"That's not good for the baby, Ange-"

"Then you'll sleep next to me, with your hand in mine, so that I know you're there, and the baby will be fine. And we will stay together the entire night, and in the morning, we will do what I just said. Do you got that?" she asked, scanning her friends eyes.

"Yes,"

Angela felt her chest slowly ease its tight grip, as she hugged Brennan tightly.

"Don't be sad, sweetie. Please. I love you,"

_My whole world flipped upside down._

"I love you too."


	18. Chapter 18

**Thanks everyone!**

**Episode-Post Doctor in the Photo**

**Pairing-Brengela**

* * *

"Sweetie?" she whispered to the sleeping form next to her. Brennan jerked awake, her wet hair slapping both of them. Breathing heavily, Brennan almost forgot where they were, and who was next to her. When she realized it, her body slowly lost its tenseness and she laid back in bed.

"You want to sleep more?" Angela asked, parting her hair. Brennan nodded, almost unsurely, though her eyes showed that she was trying to recall last nights events. When they finally came to her, she slumped in defeat. Right.

Before bringing her to bed, Angela had forced Brennan to take a shower, change, and then come with her. While Brennan wouldn't know it, Angela was outside the door, ear next to it, to make sure that Brennan was alright. No sobs seemed to come, which was good, but when she came out, Brennan almost ignored her. After crawling into bed with her and gripping her hand, Brennan stared.

"I wasn't kidding, Brennan. I have to know you're here all night. Alright? You wake me up if you leave," she stated.

She hadn't had this problem. Exhaustion seemed to hit Brennan like a rock or a bullet, and she was immediately asleep after only thirty minutes. Much shorter then Angela had anticipated. Finally, she fell asleep as well. When the sun peaked through the shade, Angela didn't want to move.

She knew she would have to, though.

"Why aren't you at Hodgins' house?" Brennan asked sleepily, gripping her hand even though it was no longer necessary.

Brennan didn't believe in intuition, so Angela knew she would scoff when she stated,

"I just felt like you needed me, that's all. Hodgins understands,"

Hodgins had been noticed it too, and he had encouraged her to go. If Booth couldn't get to her, he stated, then you could. It was that simple. Though, if he could see something in her eyes, he tried to extinguish any flames by kissing her first.

"Make sure you get sleep, though," he stated, caressing her hair. She'd smiled shyly and then walked out.

It was too hard to think about what she was thinking about. Why she was still here. It was obvious that her worry hadn't been unneeded. Last nights Brennan was not the Brennan she loved and cared about. It was a different Brennan. A Brennan she hadn't seen in a long time. This Brennan had reminded her almost of those night with Roxy. When she'd stayed up all night long, kissing away her fears, trying to protect her from something that you couldn't protect someone from. Trying to understand. Those long, lonely nights.

_Depressed artist_

That's what their mentor had called it. Angela knew better. It was more than the artist part.

Had she seen it on Brennan? Or had it been a trick of the light? She was never sure anymore. She'd used to be able to tell, every time, when something was wrong. What had happened? What had come up between them? Was it a barrier or was it something stiffer, stronger? Or was it simpler, like cardboard? Brennan had let her hold her hand all night, so it couldn't be all that bad. Maybe it was just enough to block everything out.

Or maybe their communications were gone forever.

"Did you stay awake all night, Ange?" Brennan asked gruffly. She shook her head, though it was about close to true. She'd woken up every thirty minutes, afraid that Brennan had escaped her.

"That's not good for the baby," Brennan remarked. Angela felt a rise of anger in her chest but beat it down.

"I was worried. About you. And I haven't forgotten about last night. Alright?" she whispered. Was it cheating to want to kiss her? Was it wrong to want to kiss her and hold her? Was it cheating to enjoy the feeling of their hands touching?

To want to kiss, caress, love?

"I was hoping you would retain short term memory loss," Brennan attempted a joke, but it fell short with her exhaustion. Angela sighed.

"Have you slept at all this week?"

"Not really, no," she admitted, though it was cold. Don't pry more, it warned. If you keep on, I will lock up forever. It was the vipers warning, though not a deadly strike. It was something much more painful.

Angela got up and looked back at Brennan, before pulling at her hand.

"Come on. I'm making breakfast. You can sleep on the couch,"

"Why can't I stay here?" Brennan complained.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight," Angela warned, a low growling warn, which Brennan took and raised her hands to.

"Fine!" she bit back, getting up and sitting on the edge of the couch stubernly, crossing her hands. When Angela looked back at her, she held back a smile.

"What are you doing?"

"You said to sit on the couch. I am,"

"You can lay down, sweetie," Angela said, no longer able to hold back the smirk and Brennan stuck her nose up, shaking her head.

"Nope. If you're going to treat me like a child, then a child I shall be," she stated. Angela rolled her eyes and turned around, grabbing some ingredients and starting to cook. When she turned around, she saw Brennan had slumped over and was sleeping soundly.

After finishing, Angela brought the food back and set it on the end table, waking Brennan up. She jerked up, bleary eyed.

"I was awake," she moaned. Angela smiled and sat down next to her, handing her her food and waiting for her to take the first bite. Hesitant at first, Brennan's eyes then flitted back to Angela.

"What?"

"Nothing," Angela stated sadly.

They sat in silence for a long time before Brennan finally spoke up.

"There's nothing wrong. You can go home, Ange," she stated, getting up. Her legs almost failed her, though, and Angela quickly got up and made sure she didn't fall. She slowly sat them both down again.

"Yeah. Nothings wrong. What happened, Bren?"

Silence met them for a long time until she spoke.

"I…I suppose a lot of things. I almost got killed by a car. I told Booth I loved him. I made mistakes…And I…"

Angela watched her for a while, not interrupting, though her throat closed. I almost got killed by a car? What, Angela wanted to cry. What?!

"I'm just…I'm sad. I'm really, really sad," she whispered. Angela gritted her teeth.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah,"

"Do you want to…I mean, do you want to talk about it?" she offered. Brennan shook her head.

"You're not…I mean, you aren't…"

Brennan shook her head.

"Sad is better than dead," she stated, in an almost hopeful tone. Angela's eyes widened as she swallowed and nodded.

"Yes. It's much better than dead. Sweetie, why dead?"

Her eyes clouded and she shrugged. Angela didn't want to let it go, but she did, knowing that their friendship hadn't been molded quiet enough to plunge that deep.

"Do you need space?" Angela asked suddenly, though she hoped the answer was a flat no. Brennan shook her head.

"Do whatever you want, Ange."


	19. Chapter 19

**Episode-The woman in Limbo**

**Pairing-Brengela**

**Notes-Nada**

* * *

_I miss that. Someone caring where I was all the time…_

She hadn't realized how much this distance or gap had been between them, that Brennan hadn't noticed. In fact, Angela hadn't even noticed that there was a gap. Things had changed, she thought. Molded into a better frame. Yet, here Brennan was, admitting something.

Things had not changed all that much.

She still thought she had no one. This realization broke Angela's heart. It tore at her lungs and heart, before making its way to her gut and hitting her again and again. She felt like doubling over in pain, crying out to the injured girl in front of her. Instead, Booth did it. She wasn't sure if she could forgive herself for him stepping in.

Angela had no experience with that, with the idea of someone not caring. She'd always had her father. Always. Granted, after her mom had died, it had been just them and the band, but it wasn't as though she ever felt alone. Or lonely. She'd never had to make the distinction before like Brennan.

Perhaps in these ways, it was best that she hadn't cried out for Brennan. It may have resulted in more heartbreak.

_Dr. Brennan. Miss Montenegro has volunteered to drive you home._

This hadn't been the first thing that had gone through Angela's mind after hearing about Brennan's mother. The first thing had been that she wanted to get her face off the screen. Forget it existed. This was a death mask for Brennan's own mom. That wasn't a good thing. It hurt to think about it.

"Hey, sweetie," she'd whispered, giving her a hand. The fixation on the belt buckle made her heart wrench, but she couldn't do much about it. Brennan was heavy on her feet, dragging them, and Angela wanted nothing more then to pick her up and take her home, take away her pain. Instead, she stayed by Brennan, hoping she wouldn't fall, as they drove in silence to her little apartment.

"You want me to stay, sweetie?" Angela had asked, thinking she already knew the answer. Brennan started to shake her head before nodding, which took Angela more then a little by surprise. The cry was something she wasn't used to with Bren, not outside of the safety of their apartment, so when she nodded, Angela got out quickly.

After fretting a while, Brennan would ask her to leave, and like the good friend she was, Ange left. She stayed perched outside of the apartment building, watching until finally she saw Brenan peak out and she would start the car, driving away. It wasn't fair, leaving her like that. But it wasn't fair not to obey her wishes, either.

_I'd be sitting in class and I'd hear out the window "Marco". It'd be Russ checking in on me, letting everyone know that I was his little sister._

The story had turned something in her, made her feel almost sympathetic to Russ. Almost. Not really enough, though. She still hated the boy. He wasn't to be trusted, Bren had said. And if anyone WAS to be trusted, it was Brennan.

Whenever she would walk outside of Brennan's office, she would get the odd, almost irresistible urge to say, "Marco", to let her know that she was still there to care about her. But this single word never made its way out of her mouth, and in this way, Angela found herself a new line of regrets. Of not saying things she should.

It wasn't until that night after talking to Russ, after talking to McVicker, that things started to fall into place again. The next night, Brennan called her and asked her to come, if she wanted to, to eat dinner with her. Angela had accepted, and just like every other dinner night before that, they talked boys, and sex, and their pasts. Brennan's much more recent then Angela's. Angela's much more careful then Brennan's.

After that meal, simply settling down for a movie seemed like treat enough. So they both lay on the couch, Angela's head in Brennan's lap, waiting for some mystic words to be said that would not be uttered quiet yet. Something had changed within the atmosphere of their friendship, of their relationship, and Angela was unsure if it was good or bad. She found the answer when, instead of crawling into bed with Brennan that night, Brennan tugged on her hand and brought Angela with her.

"You sure, sweetie? After everything that's happened?"

Brennan had a small ghost of a smile on her lips as she nodded. Cautiously, Angela wrapped her arms around her before she fell into a slumber.

It wasn't until she was sure that Brennan was totally asleep that she muttered what she'd wanted to for such a long time.

"Marco…"

_You're mine, and I care about you._

Soft snoring was the only reply.


	20. Chapter 20

**Episode-Shot in the Dark**

**Pairing-Brengela**

**Notes-I don't own Bones. Thanks for the reviews, fallow's and favs!**

* * *

"Whoo, Bren. It's okay. Hey," Angela gave a tight smile at Brennan, who was trying, in vein, to sit up straighter. Angela gently pushed down on her shoulder, peaking outside the window to see Booth staring in, protective, and Hodgins besides him.

Brennan gave a grunt of pain but went down anyways, shutting her eyes and breathing in deeply.

The two men who perched outside of the room's fear was reasonable. The last time she'd been alone with Bren, her heart had stopped. Angela still couldn't get rid of the sock in her gut when that had happened, the fear that had invaded her thoughts and actions.

_"Ange, we should go-"_

_"No! I'm staying here!"_

When Hodgins had wrapped his arms around her tightly, she'd wanted to scream at him to get away, that this wasn't fair, but instead she buried her head into his shoulder, trying to ignore the scruff on his neck and trying to imagine, instead, Brennan.

It wasn't fair to want her. They were both in committed relationships. And Hodgins did love Angela, just like Booth loved Brennan. In the same aspect, the opposite was true.

_I fall in love every time_

She had just fallen for Brennan the hardest. She had yet to get over the love, the potential. Things had shifted.

Be safe, she remembered telling Brennan when she had been on the run. He loves you, and be safe.

She neglected to say that she loved Brennan as well. She feared these emotions and the pulling would distract Brennan from staying alive. Never once did Angela fear getting caught. Just as when she'd given Brennan an alibi, Angela never thought twice about contacting Brennan. It wasn't an illegal act in her mind. It was a chance to keep from going insane.

"You're happy today," Hodgins had said once after she'd picked up one of Brennan's flowers. Yarrow. Good health. It was a simple enough thing to detect. They were alright.

Right now, however, as she watched Brennan, she did not feel happy, or relieved. She should, she knew, because Brennan was alive and everything would be alright. It was good that all of these things were true. But it was also true, dreadfully true, that she had almost lost Brennan. Three times.

"I found something interesting," Brennan stated tiredly, looking up at Angela. Heart strings pulled tightly, Angela tilted her head.

"Yes, sweetie? Anthropologically interesting?"

She shook her head.

"No…Psychologically interesting, I suppose…"

There was no silence due to the beeping machines, something Angela found comfort in. Bren's heart was still beating. That's all the mattered.

"Bren…" she started. "You hate psychology,"

Brennan took a moment and then nodded.

"Are you tired, Bren? Because I can go,"

Brennan shook her head and weakly reached out, before Angela grabbed her hand and smiled a little.

"I'm right here," she promised, almost chokingly, knowing that Booth's stare would be to her back.

"I saw my mother…" she stated, shaking her head.

Angela nodded, unsure how to react to this news.

"You explained to me how that works. Brain stress or something, right?"

Brennan nodded.

Angela was unsure how to respond. It took a while until she figured out at least something.

"Did she say anything to you?"

"It's not just about surviving anymore…It's about flourishing…" she muttered this out almost like a mantra prayer, saying it with the steady rhythm of a much practiced speaker. Angela was confused for a while, and she tilted her head.

"I don't know what that means, sweetie,"

"Me neither," Brennan said quickly. Angela shook her head.

"No, I don't know what that means. Why you'd hear that. How are you not flourishing, sweetie? Do you know how much you've grown since I met you?" she asked seriously. Brennan looked up.

"You haven't just been surviving, sweetie. You have a daughter. You've opened up. You have me and Booth, Hodgins and Michael. Cam. Are you still that miserable?" she asked cautiously. Brennan shrugged.

"I felt like after I woke up…I was going mad, Ange. I know scientifically it's possible, but it felt strange…It's been so long,"

Angela felt her heart go out as she nodded, then stroked the back of her hand lightly.

"When I first lost my mom, I spent a lot of time thinking about what could have been. And I had these long conversations with her when I slept. The first time a boy broke my heart, I just wanted someone to hold me, to tell me it would be alright. And I couldn't tell my dad, because he'd just go kick some Texas butt…So one night I fell asleep, crying because I felt so lonely, and when I woke up it felt like someone had just held me for a long time. You know the after feel of a hug? It felt like that,"

Brennan was staring and shaking her head.

"It was your mind trying to comfort you, a defensive mechanism-"

Angela smiled and nodded.

"The mind does crazy things when it's under immense pressure, things that are needed to adapt, right? So tell me this, sweetie-Why are you any different?"

She was met, at first, with no answer.

"What if I wanted it to be real? I know it wasn't. But what if, for a moment, I wanted it to be real?"

Angela brought her hand to her lips and kissed it.

"Nothing wrong with that, Bren. Nothing at all,"

The next few minutes were passed in soft discussion, until Angela got up and offered to leave so Booth could go back to his perch. She wanted, so badly, to kiss her on the forehead. Instead she resisted.

Upon leaving, Booth put a hand on her shoulder.

"She's lucky to have a friend like you. You know that?"

Angela smiled tightly and nodded, before walking over to Hodgins.

_I fall in love every time._


	21. Chapter 21

**Episode-Post Yanks in the UK**

**Pairing-Brengela**

**Notes-Thanks guys! A lot!**

* * *

_Look, um. Hodgins and I brok__e up. And I won't know why until I talk to you so…I'll just go home and wait in bed until…_

The abruptness of the message shocked Angela as soon as she hung up, but she knew she couldn't take it back. Instead, she bowed her head, stuck her phone in her pocket and started towards the door, ignoring the fact that it was almost totally dark and she was here as late as Brennan tended to be. She was unsure if this had been picked up by hanging out with Brennan or if it had seemed like an appropriate coping mechanism at the time. In either case, it worked. Distracting herself until calling Brennan hadn't been as hard as she'd thought.

She had ridden to work with Hodgins, but obviously that wasn't a choice anymore. So instead, she walked through the darkness until she got to her apartment, came in and closed the door, before leaning against it and sinking slowly to the ground.

_Two people that don't trust each other don't belong together…_

This was true. Trust is a founding principle in which love is based on. Brennan would say that trust wasn't necessary, that the hormones that occurred were not in fact due to trust but body reactions. Though Bren was a genius, she'd have gotten that one wrong.

Their relationship, the most stable one Angela had been in for years, was based on trust. Not solely on trust. That wouldn't make sense. That wasn't how it worked. No, the most stable relationship that Angela had was based on trust, and love, and understanding. These three things made a stable triangle. Brennan would explain, if she was there, that triangles are the most structurally stable shape. And though Angela knew this, she knew this from countless media classes, she would nod and pretend that she didn't really know it.

While Brennan didn't always realize this, it was okay. Brennan liked knowledge. There was nothing wrong with that. It was actually refreshing.

After propping herself up, Angela went to her bed just as she'd told Brennan she would, and sat, thinking. What had caused the rapid collapse? Had it really been her ex husband? Or had it, in reality, been a building about to crumble? Were they just two architects too obsessed with their work to realize how fast the thing was crumbling?

Had something other than her ex husband managed to shift the construction? Had it been Bren?

She wouldn't know until she saw her.

But a few things she knew. She had never talked to Brennan about her ex husband. She shared everything with Bren, but she hadn't managed to do that. Whenever she spoke of him after the news got out, Angela's heart raced, even though Brennan's face was numb and emotionless. She knew how Brennan saw the world. It wasn't cheating in her eyes.

Angela felt like it was.

Had it been cheating on either side when she'd told Hodgins she would marry him? Brennan had been ecstatic, or as close as she could get. Yet she never told Hogins of her nights with Brennan. This, she figured, would cause too many problems.

Was she the untrustworthy one?

_Hey, you're the one leaving._

_You're the one not stopping me._

At about midnight, she heard the locking mechanism of her door being unlocked, someone stepping in. She heard the ruffling of a coat, the letting down of a bag. When Brennan made her way in, she leaned against the door frame with a small smile, a tilt of her head.

"I suppose both of us have had rather…What you would say 'crappy' weeks, haven't we?" Brennan asked, walking in slowly and kneeling on her bed. Angela nodded. Sensing the need to be closer, Brennan slowly crawled to her and took her neck in her arms, before Angela settled comfortable on her shoulder.

"What happened?" Brennan asked. Angela contemplated even answering, since everything was becoming more and more complicated. It didn't seem like there WAS a good answer as for what happened. Something just did. That was all.

"We lacked trust," Angela said simply, reverting back to her old excuse. The millions of reasons again floated by, and her mind tried to cast them away.

Brennan didn't argue, which Angela found odd, but ignored.

"Why did you need to talk to me?" she asked, almost cautiously. Sighing, Angela buried her head into Brennan's hair, smelling the sweet scent, before tilting up.

"I'm afraid that maybe…You may have something to do with it," she admitted, before gulping. Brennan's eyes widened before she pulled her arms away from Angela, almost suddenly sitting up. It seemed as though she were suddenly eager to go.

"What are you doing, sweetie?"

Brennan stared at the wall for a while, her arms wrapped around her shoulders. Shaking her head, she started to get up.

"If I have something to do with it, I'm assuming the correct response on my end would be to leave, correct?"

A sudden shock wave burst through Angela as she sat up, grabbed Brennan's hand and tugged on it forcefully. The Anthropologist turned around suddenly, almost in fear. Angela shook her head.

"No! Not like that, Brennan. Don't leave. Please,"

Confusion flooded her eyes once more, and Angela was reminded of a trapped dog, cornered. She was being stared at, and her heart tugged painfully at the act.

"I'm…Unsure of your meaning,"

"Bren, look at me. I…I'm just afraid I might have decided that I fell in love forever too fast. Especially since I'm pretty sure I'm head over heels for you," she stated. This caused more confusion, as Brennan shook her head.

"While I certainly disagree with your idea of what marriage is, Angela, I know for a fact that you don't believe that it's just financial gain. You believe in eternal and transcendent love. Why the sudden change?"

The eternal and transcendent love that Brennan was talking about was tearing her to shreds, because Angela wanted to shout out 'You! You are the one I want to be eternally and transcendently in love with! You!'. However, it seemed as though she were pulling Brennan to tight already tonight. She looked cornered and afraid. Angela didn't want to push her away.

"I'm not sure if Hodgins was the one for me, is all. Or if he is, we didn't click right. Not yet,"

Brennan took a while, but finally she nodded.

"Do you want me to go or stay?" she asked suddenly, not wanting to intrude. Angela held on tightly to her arm.

"Don't make me be alone twice in one day. Please,"

Laying down, breathing in rhythm, maybe for a second eternal and transcendent love was possible.

But the moment passed, and like all moments passed, it was sooner than later a memory, rather than a sensation.


	22. Chapter 22

**Episode-Any time season 1 post Man in the Fallout Shelter, pre Woman in Limbo. **

* * *

_I've got my own story. Just like you, just like everybody. I got my own sad story._

Angela typically wasn't someone who was slightly unhappy. Mourning, while it occurred, was rare and well deserved. She wasn't like Brennan who could put things off, but Angela didn't indulge in suffering either. She simply let it happen, mourned as best as she could, and moved on. The Jeffersonian had simply helped add to that.

So Brennan was curious when Angela called in that day and told her that she couldn't come in. Brennan had tried to approach it, as awkwardly as she managed, but Angela just ended up pushing it off. Everything was alright, Angela reassured. I just have to do things.

This was what ran through Brennan's mind throughout the day, though she was able to push it off for identifying. Booth had come in once to try and talk to her, but Brennan had hushed him and told him that, unless they had a case, he needed to get out. She needed to concentrate. Hurt, he'd walked out.

It wasn't that she wanted to insult Booth. She just needed to identify to keep her mind off of the artist.

When the day was done, Brennan hesitated before calling Angela, only to receive a voice message. Unsure exactly how to proceed, she waited in the Jeffersonian for about thirty minutes trying to calculate exactly what she should do next.

When finally she decided to try and find the artist, she had to force herself up. She wasn't sure if that was what you were SUPPOSED to do, but she hoped that was the case. Worry was invading her thoughts, something she found unpleasant.

While she wasn't expecting Angela to be home, Brennan went to her apartment first. Surprisingly, however, Brennan realized that Angela was in fact at home. And there was someone else there too. Two figures were shown in the window, though she couldn't see clearly the other person.

Worry, fear, jealousy and distrust ran through her. Why was someone else up there? Didn't Ange trust her?

The urge to storm up there was, of course, irrational. But she still felt the need and did, in fact, storm up to her apartment, and knock on the door. Instead of being met by a foreign man, however, Brennan saw someone she hadn't been expecting.

"H…Hello sir," Brennan stuttered out, realizing the man was Angela's father. He smiled at her in a strained sort of way and shrugged.

"Call me Billy, sweetheart. What are you doing around these parts this early? Don't you usually work later?" he asked in his low, Texas drawl. Brennan, not sure what to make of the situation, shrugged.

"Well, I was simply…I calculated that…Angela isn't often…"

"Gone?" he asked her. She nodded stiffly. "You were worried?"

Brennan stared and then nodded, almost reluctantly. Patting her on the back, he stepped aside.

"Come on in. And loosen up. You don't gotta be afraid of me,"

Brennan nodded and stepped in, though the sudden feeling that she was intruding on something very private came into her the moment she did. Angela was sitting on the couch, her legs to her chest, arms curled around them. Despite the slight puffy nature of her eyes, a forced smile was on her face.

"Sweetie…You didn't have to come…" she stated. Not sure what to make of the situation, Brennan shrugged and walked slowly over to her, before kneeling down next to her.

"Yes…I'm unsure what to do, however…May I ask what's going on?" she asked. Angela looked up to her father and then looked down at Brennan, suddenly launching herself into Brennan's arms. The sudden movement made Brennan flinch, but she did not pull away. Instead she let Angela stay in her arms.

"I…It's my mom's birthday today…And dad and I thought we should spend the day together," she stated. Not sure how to react, she got up slowly and sat on the couch, bringing Angela with her.

"I have never met your mother…And by your actions, then…"

"Yes, sweetie. You guessed right,"

Brennan nodded, looking over to Billy for help. She wasn't sure what to do. She'd comforted Angela once but was afraid the actions were not enough. Were they enough? Had they really done anything?

"What…Happened?" she asked hesitantly. Angela sighed, shaking her head.

"She got sick really fast…I was twelve. She died when I was fourteen," she stated. Brennan nodded.. She didn't want to indulge with questions that might hurt her friend, so she stayed silent. Billy had taken the time to sit on the other side of Angela.

"Did you…and your mother get along well?" she asked. She could remember her fights with her mom very vividly, knew that the adolescent years were prime for such things. Angela didn't respond for a while.

"It's…Hard to remember who she really was from who she was when she was sick. We didn't get along when she was sick," she stated.

Brennan didn't reply, instead holding her head and keeping her arm around Angela's back.

"She was scary sometimes," Angela whispered, and with this, Brennan could understand. She cast a glance at her father, as though pleading him to leave for a moment, and so he did. Excusing himself for a while, Brennan and Angela sat in silence for a while.

"Is it bad that when I heard that she died, I was relived?" she asked. "I'm such a heart person, but I was relived. You must think I'm a monster,"

Brennan shook her head.

"No, that's a very natural response. Anthropologically, many cultures celebrate death not through mourning but celebration. And death after long age or suffering is often seen as a gift," she stated scientifically. Angela choked out what seemed like a laugh.

"Anthropology is perfect for everything, isn't it?" she asked, burying her head in Brennan's neck. Brennan licked her lips and shook her head.

"No, not everything. For example, I have no idea what to do now," she stated nervously. Angela let out another choked laugh and nodded.

"You're doing great, sweetie. Great, great, great…"

This much was debatable, but Brennan nodded, not wanting to disrupt what was happening.

"Can you stay for a while, sweetie? Spend time with me and dad?"

"Am I intruding?" she asked nervously. Angela shook her head.

"No. I feel much better now," she stated.

At least for a while.


	23. Chapter 23

**Pairing-Brengela**

**Episode-The Woman in the Garden**

**Notes-You guys rock!**

* * *

"You beat up a gang leader?!"

Brennan looked up suddenly at Angela.

"Booth told you that?"

"You did! You got in a fight with a gang banger!"

The anger in her voice was impossible not to hear, and Brennan stared for a long time, confused. She'd done much worse in war torn countries, and it wasn't as if she were without protection.

"You're mad at me?"

"The guys a killer, Brennan!"

"Relax. We were in an FBI building."

"Look, I know your about self reliance and fighting your own battles and standing up for yourself, but now as your friend, and knowing how much you hate psychology here-You need therapy,"

This long tangent hurt much more than it should have, and Angela realized this when she looked into Brennan's deep eyes. Angela almost pulled back, took everything back that she had just said, but deep in her heart she was a little more than afraid. Brennan didn't seem to realize the repercussions of these actions, and the idea of losing her…It was too much to take.

And her mental state scared the hell out of her too. Who in their right mind would chose to fight a gang leader? Did she want to die? Or was she just testing the waters?

"I've dealt with him. Not with him specifically, but men like him. On my last trip to El Salvador…"

"Yeah, I remember. I tried to get you to go to Italy with me,"

A small smile played on Brennan's lips when Angela said this, and one slowly played on Angela's. However, it quickly faded when she remembered the time after she'd picked Brennan up. She'd been terrified. Whatever progress she'd made was destroyed instantly when Brennan had come back. And that phone call…What had been up with that call? In the middle of the night…Brennan had sounded half broken. This was something that she was accustomed to seeing at home, but never over the phone line. Brennan was professional on the phone. But that call…that had been anything but.

"I was in a tent set up by one of the grave sites. I was working with the remains of a young girl, maybe 13. She'd been shot in the head and dumped into a well. This cop shows up and, he might have been a soldier it's not easy to tell. I thought he was there to guard me, but he told me to stop. When I refused he called in two others. They put a bag over my head and tossed me into a cell with dirt floor and no windows."

A sudden coldness came across Angela, and she felt the sudden need to bring Brennan into her arms. There was something in her eyes. She'd hadn't gone back there, but she remembered it clearly. That hurt more than the words. She remembered. There was no going back from it. Instead of stopping her, she pushed a little more, afraid that if she didn't ask, she'd never get to know.

"For how long?"

"Latter I found out it was three days but I thought it was a week, maybe more. He came in everyday and made me believe I was going to die. He said that he was going to shoot me and toss me into a well and that no one would ever know who I was or what became of me. I promised myself if I ever had the chance I'd get even. That doesn't mean I need therapy."

Angela took in a sharp breath, hugging herself tightly. Three days? How bad could that be? Thinking you were going to die, thinking you were going to rot without anyone knowing…

No wonder she'd been so broken.

"Sweetie, I-"

Brennan looked up and shrugged.

"Don't worry about it, Ange,"

"Have you told Booth?"

A look crossed her face as she shook her head.

"No,"

Angela wanted to stay, to talk more to Brennan, but the tension in the room rose and soon Angela saw that not only did Brennan not want her in here now, she was increasingly upset by her presence. After the crime had been solved, however, and she asked her to come to the funeral with her, Angela did as asked. She felt the tension melt away, though she could still feel the bitter sadness.

And Angela felt anger. Part of it was due to what had happened to her. How unfair it was. But there was also the fact that Booth hadn't shown up, that he had betrayed that trust.

_He uses his gun and badge to intimidate people. He's a bully._

She remembered Brennan saying this, and originally thinking it was self independence or something of that nature. However, now she saw exactly why that thing had bothered her so much. She'd seen him use force that she'd seen used in other countries. She had trouble distinguishing it, and Booth couldn't explain the difference.

She'd thought that Brennan and Booth would get something to eat later that night, but instead she called Angela.

"Can I…Come over? I can't sleep…"

"Sure, sweetie. You want to talk?"

The hesitation on the other end of the line was long, but she heard a sigh.

"No…Just…I just need to be around you,"

And Angela also understood now why Brennan was not put off by her behaviors. Angela was a lover, not a fighter, not a soldier. She didn't push like Booth did, and she didn't have the violent tendencies that Booth did. Circumstances were different, of course, but it didn't mean anything.

Booth was like a sheep dog. A good guard, a loyal soldier, a lover. But able to destroy if his master called him to do it.

Angela, she decided, was more like a lap dog. Loyal, lover, and a hell of a good listener. But not a killer. Not even in the best of circumstances.

Angela wondered which one Brennan needed more.


	24. Chapter 24

**Episode-Post Season Eight finale**

**Pairing-Brengela**

* * *

_Would you ever go to Italy with me?_

_Of course._

That had been the first disastrous promise.

It had been made years ago. Years ago without thought and Brennan had never really thought that it would actually happen. It had been one of her first empty promises, one that she'd assumed Angela would forget about. They'd made many promises over the years which had faded with time. With the birth of children, Angela's marriage…It had faded almost without a second thought.

However, it was getting colder and colder around Booth. Brennan had taken to sleeping in the guest room, and leaving before Booth got up. All cases were strictly professional. It didn't take long for Angela to notice.

"Sweetie, maybe you need a break. Just a short one,"

"Christine needs me,"

"Sweetie, Booth is a giant ass for saying no, but he's not a bad father. Maybe you just need some space. You remember Italy?"

"I couldn't possibly leave now,"

"Brennan, please. Just think it over,"

She had nodded, thinking that Angela would let it go after a few weeks, but she didn't. A few weeks turned into a month, and it seemed as though the nod had turned into careful planning. Planning which involved taking off, getting passports, buying tickets. Planning which involved letting Booth know, and then sooner then she had ever expected, a plane ride to Italy.

This was the second major mistake. Going along with it.

Because Brennan was realizing that she had trouble focusing on Angela, and was more focused on the prospect of home.

"Angela, I don't think this was the best idea. What if we're needed?"

"Bren, they can go a week without us,"

"But Angela, I-"

"I know, sweetie," she sighed. "I know."

Practically, there was no reason to be afraid. As Angela had pointed out, it wasn't as if Booth was a bad father. He was a wonderful father. And the squinturns would make out fine on their own. Something felt wrong, though, and she couldn't stop it.

After landing and checking into a hotel, the two started off. While Brennan had originally been very cautious about all of it, she had to admit-Italy was a beautiful country. And she had a beautiful woman right next to her.

They made a trip to the Uffizi first. Florence was not only an artists area, but full of rich history as well. Brennan didn't miss a beat. Almost immediately she started talking about it, and just as Angela always did, she listened intently. It didn't matter that history wasn't her strong suit. So far as she was concerned, the enthusiasm that Brennan spoke about it with was enough. It was rare, and to see Brennan happy like that was something that she hadn't managed to poke out in a while.

Just in the same way, Brennan looked at art and held back any and all comments she had about it. She listened to Angela, not because art interested her, but because art made her happy. It filled her chest up with pride to see her friend so knowledgeable.

By the time they went out to eat and went back to the hotel, exhaustion was imminent. Crawling into opposite beds, not only exhaustion filled them, but a joy too. As though they were both on cloud nine with absolutely no chance of being brought down.

Happy. They were happy.

It had been a long time since they'd slept in the same room together, and it was somewhat of a shock when Angela woke up to see Brennan tossing and turning, hugging a pillow to her chest. The instant reaction was dulled, but she quickly got up and walked to the bed before shaking Brennan awake.

"Sweetie. Sweetie! Get up!"

Brennan tensed first before calming down and opening her eyes. Confusion first darted across her face and then fear.

"Where's Christine?"

"At home, Sweetie. Home. You're okay. You're okay. And she's okay too. Alright?" she promised, crawling on the bed in hesitation. Brennan slowly relaxed, staring off into space instead, not wanting to focus on Angela.

"What were you dreaming about?" she asked. Brennan's eyes darted up and she shrugged, trying to avoid the question. Angela didn't move however, so she sighed.

"We were on the run again…Only Pelant got her…"

_Focus on a single attainable goal._

_You got one of those for me?_

_Yeah. Catch Pelant._

Angela realized suddenly how absolutely ridiculous of this was. Focusing on a single attainable goal works in the morning, works while you're still awake, but it wouldn't work while you were asleep. You can't control dreams. Brennan had put on a strong face for all of them, when she had been dealing with Pelant the longest.

"You said that you weren't afraid because you were alone. Why were you afraid, then?"

Brennan swallowed and shook her head.

"I was afraid that Christine, or Booth, or you would get hurt. I knew you were still working on it, Ange. And it terrified me. What if he got you? I could protect Christine. That didn't stop me from worrying, but at least I had some impact on it. I slept with her right next to me, waking up every thirty minutes. I learned to know her breathing, and to wake up if anything at all changed in it. Booth's an ex ranger. It didn't stop me from worrying, but at least he had protection. But you? I was terrified for you, too…"

"Booth…Not sleeping with him, it's not just because you're angry, is it?"

"Not entirely, no. I can't…Sleep…Without her breathing next to me. Without knowing that everyone's safe…I could for a while, but it's harder now…When he came back…When he went into your house…When he almost killed Sweets…"

Without thinking about it, Brennan was holding onto Angela's arm, and Angela was laying down next to her as well. Angela was unconsciously tracing her body, thinking of some of the first deep words she'd ever said to her.

_They hurt you_

And now she was realizing that Pelant was doing the same thing.

It angered and saddened her more then she wanted to admit.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes-So this is dedicated to a real cool person. It's her birthday today, and I hope that this year is just epic for her. I look up to her a lot and hope that she knows that. Katrina, this ones for you.**

**Episode-Sadly, AU.**

* * *

It was noon. She knew this because she kept glancing at the clock on her table, then glancing back to the door in front of her. Too long had been spent in this room, fretting in this dress, waiting and waiting and waiting.

_"Can't I just see you?" She'd begged Angela_. "_Just once before…"_

_"No, sweetie. You know how I feel about this."_

So instead of being with Angela, she was here alone.

That didn't last long. The sound of the door being opened alerted her and she shifted her gaze to see Booth walking in, a small smile on his face.

"You look great, Bones! Congrats!"

She showed a small smile and nodded.

"I'm happy you came. I know it must be hard-"

"No! Really, Bones. You look beautiful,"

They sat in silence after that, total silence, unsure of what to say to the other.

"You'll be great, Bones. I promise."

He was always good at reading her. Even if she had never returned his feelings.

Patting her on the knee, he sat up and walked out of the room, casting her a small smile before leaving. Silence once more. More time to think. Remember.

_"I've come to the conclusion that it might be wise if we…Well…" It had been more silent then._

_"Yes?"_

_"Ange, I…"_

The knock on the door once more brought her from her musings, and she stood up suddenly when she realized it was her father standing in the doorway.

"You ready to go, sweetheart?"

She only hesitated a moment.

"Yes…Of course…"

She linked her arm through his and walked once more in silence.

_"I love you. And I don't want to lose you. I…I've been too close to losing you,"_

They walked slowly outside, to where a crowd sat, and just as suddenly as the fleeting doubt had entered, it sprinted away. Because Ange had gotten there first. She'd known this would happen. They had rehearsed it a thousand times. At least, in their heads. Once in real life and thousands upon thousands of times in their heads.

_"Sweetie, are you asking…"_

_"Yes. Please. I love you,"_

She had asked Angela countless times why either of them would wear white. After all, everyone knew that neither of them were virgins. They couldn't even lie to each other.

_"Because, sweetie, people do that. It'll look beautiful,"_

And she did.

There was no other way to describe her. Brennan could easily describe how the dress fit her, how it clung to her, how whenever she would move from foot to foot, it would sway gently. It was not these things that captured her attention, however. In fact, the dress gained little more than a half hearted look. The makeup which had been so carefully applied only hours ago barely registered.

She was not beautiful because of these things. It was the look in her eyes when she saw Brennan, the way that they lit up and a smile much brighter than before came on. That was what was beautiful. She didn't care about the dress or the makeup. In many years, they'd be forgotten. But not that smile. Not that joy. These things, she decided, would never be forgotten.

She didn't remember meeting Angela at the front. She knew, however, that she did not rush or run, because no one in the crowd gave them a strange look. She'd simply been…Captured.

And it was this that held her throughout the ceremony. Until they kissed and briefly drew apart.

"You're beautiful, Bren,"

The sound was wonderful to her ears.

_Bren, sweetie, wake up,_

"You too, Angela…"

_Please, please, please wake up,_

Slowly, she drew away. Confusion lurked in Brennan.

"Where are you going?"

_Sweetie, please,_

"I'll be back, Bren,"

"No wait! Come back _now! _ _Please!"_

The scene slowly faded.

_Please!_

Gasping for air, Brennan awoke.

At first, mere confusion clung onto her as she stared ahead, and finally she tilted her head towards the sound of the voice.

"You're okay!" the voice cried, launching its self onto Brennan. She grunted and tried to make sense of it all, until she realized exactly who it was.

"Ange…"

"Yes, sweetie…I was so worried!"

She'd thought she'd been shaking because of the shock of the dream, but it seemed as though that wasn't the case. She hadn't stopped. Doubt and sadness crept into her mind.

Was it all just a dream?

"Wha…What happened?"

Angela crawled over next to her, stroking her head lightly. It was only then that Brennan noticed the pain in it.

"You fell from a ladder, sweetie…Trying to get into a tree for a picture together...We're in Hawii. You have a concussion. I wasn't supposed to let you sleep…I had to leave for a second a little while ago and I…I thought…"

"That dream was so real," she let out, suddenly clutching her aching head. Angela hesitated and placed a kiss on it before laying her hand on Brennan's chest, and the other on her head.

"What dream, sweetie?"

"We were…Married…" she let out, not sure exactly how the girl would take it. Angela's eyes softened and she smiled, getting closer.

"Were we?"

"Yes…It must have been the head injury,"

They were silent for a long time before Angela sighed.

"Well, I hope not,"

Brennan looked up in confusion. Just then, Angela reached across to a dresser and grabbed her hand, holding it out and slowly putting something on her finger.

In the dark, Brennan squinted at it until she figured out exactly what it was.

"No…"

"Yeah," Angela whispered, holding her hand tightly.

"So we really…"

"Yeah," Angela whispered. "Happy Honeymoon, sweetie,"


	26. Chapter 26

**Pairing-Brengela**

**Episode-Varies.**

**Note-A comparison piece among Brennan and Angela's relashinship and Elphaba's and Fiyero's in _Wicked, The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West_. If you plan on reading the book and don't want spoilers, don't go on. If you don't plan on reading the book, then I think you'll be fine to continue. It was a trial thing.**

* * *

_"But she woke up just then, and in the moonlight covered herself with a blanket. She smiled at him drowsily and called him "Yero, my hero," and that melted his heart."_

Brennan could remember reading this. It was 2004, and she was in Iraq. There were certain points throughout the day that she along with her crew was allowed to rest and do whatever they wished, within a certain standard, recreationally. She was in the FOB, forward operating base, patrolled by US Soldiers and Marines, in a tent with any forensic anthropologists who had been asked to do this dirty work.

Brennan had always hated war work. It was loud, it was dangerous. The remains that were unidentifiable were all too often either children or soldiers from either side. Sometimes she felt so sick with it all that she wanted to give up the profession altogether. But she couldn't.

This was all too important.

She had gotten the book from a Marine, Sanchez, who had attained the book via a care package from her father. After finishing it, she'd sought Brennan out and given it to her.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand why-"

"You identified my brother," Sanchez had said simply. Brennan could remember the name of ever person that she'd identified-they were all stuck permanently inside of her head. The ran circles while she tried to sleep, made laps in her deepest nightmares. Sanchez was not the name of someone she had identified.

"Your brother?" Brennan had asked softly. "What do you mean your brother?"

"We had to leave him. His body. It was that or lose all chance of completing the mission…Doctor, he was my friend. I'd never forgive myself if he didn't return home to his parents. You identified him. You brought him home,"

His parents. Not our parents. His. The logical conclusion was thus-

"He isn't your REAL brother, then," she replied. Sanchez had smiled softly.

"Not by blood, no. But he was as real a brother as I ever had,"

The strict relationships between Soldiers, Marines, Airman and Sailors had often confused her. Anthropologically, even, it often didn't make sense. They bounded together because they were all stuck in a situation which may one day require them to die. They stayed together because they needed to trust each other. Still, the idea of calling them a brother or sister often felt wrong in her own heart. While she'd certainly bonded with certain kids in foster care, she'd never felt close enough to call them a brother or a sister.

None the less, she took the book and thanked the Marine, before leaving to her tent and starting to read.

That quote had always caught her off guard.

It wasn't as if the book hadn't prepared her. During the last chapter, the pages had been filled with low grade scenes involving the two characters, Fiyero and Elphaba. Sensual scenes, scenes often filled with both romance and emotion. While she didn't always appreciate it, she found it relaxing when she would come in from work.

That line was small and almost insignificant. At first, even, she might have claimed that the scene was merely Maguire's chance at showing how little a woman can do without a man. After all, she calls him a 'Hero'. How much more degrading can you get?

However, it wasn't as though he was showing a weak woman needing a man. Elphaba was anything but.

She pondered on this quote many times, never really sure why she was so intrigued by it. She would leave a sticky note by it, put the book to the side. When she came back state side, the book was left in a shelf and not touched again. The quote was forgotten about.

Time had passed since she'd read this book, and it wasn't until Angela and her started their 'Girl nights' together that she started pondering it again. Girl nights were rare, and were often involved after Angela and Hodgins got into a fight. Angela would call her, and Brennan would open the doors.

The next morning, they would awake in each other's arms and quickly untangle, hoping to stop the deed which had occurred. Hoping to stop the fact that both had just committed a betrayal, even if technically, for those few hours, Angela did not belong to Jack. Angela, as her father had said, belonged to no man.

They would cook breakfast, promise to never speak of it again, and Angela would return home to Jack, promising that the event would never occur again. Inevitably, of course, a fight would ensue many months later, and she'd come back to repeat the process.

It was only after one of those nights that Brennan went back to the book and flipped to the page.

Yero had been the name given to Fiyero. Fea to Elphaba. So well to the world, Elphaba did not exist. She had disappeared into the shadows. Fiyero was a prince. A married prince with children. Yero and Fea, however, had no obligations to fulfill. They only had obligations to one another.

The quote came after a rather long, describing passage from Fiyero's point of view. Certainly not for children's eyes. The passage came with many wondrous ways of stringing words together, she assumed, if only she could appreciate them.

Many years after reading the book, Brennan realized the connection to her own life.

For she was more like Elphaba then she cared to admit, and Angela more like Fiyero. She was bookish, and not too well at making friends. She was awkward, and in school days had been in the shadow of her more popular and beautiful, or in Brennan's case, hansom, sibling. Fiyero, while male, was certainly close to Angela. Kind and not seeing the bad within Elphaba. Not caring about the scars which riddled her body.

And she was most certainly Brennan's hero.

She had hated the idea of a hero. But yes. Angela was most certainly Brennan's hero.

Brennan wasn't sure where she'd be today if not for Angela. Certainly she would still be back where she'd been in Iraq. Afraid but strong headed. Unsure of exactly what made one human trust another with his or her life. Surely she'd never have understood things like friendship had she not found Angela. Or love.

She most certainly would not have understood love.

She was finding that it was less of a chemical thing then it was simply a…Well, a thing thing. Indescribable. Hard to measure. Unlike whenever she had been with Pete, where she had counted the number of chemicals which were running through her during the time, she treasured moments with Angela and found herself simply awakening feeling…Alive. Energized. Real.

Alive. So, so alive!

Fiyero had died. Yero passed in the wind.

She wouldn't allow this of Angela. Brennan would rather die. She wondered if this was the part of love that she had never understood. Feeling so unbelievably _alive_ that you are willing to _die _before giving it up.

So the next time that Angela came over and entangled herself, Brennan took a risk. The next morning, before they could unravel and promise to never do it again, she grabbed Angela's hand.

"You're my hero,"

Angela's eyes lit up as she nodded.

"Sweetie, I don't think you'd ever understand. But you're a hero to me,"

And all was calm.


	27. Chapter 27

**Letter format**.

**Episode-In between season 7 finale and season 8 premiere.**

* * *

An Azalea.

A flower meaning first love. Meaning take care of yourself. Meaning, most appropriately, Temperance.

It's been months since I've seen you. Two and a half, in fact. However, whenever I enter your house, I'm finding it more and more difficult to just…Forget. It's still filled with you, even if you left it. It still holds your scent. It still holds your passion. It holds everything that you've ever treasured, apart from of course the Jeffersonian itself.

It seems as though Booth comes to work every day more and more tired. He sometimes blanks out in cases, staring at what used to be your office instead of listening to Cam. Sometimes I see him reach into his wallet and peak at a picture that he holds within it. He'll smile slightly before it falls. And then he'll be stoic once more.

He does a much better job then me.

Hodgins and I haven't…Well, you know…Since you left. Granted, as you well know, we hadn't much BEFORE, but still…It's stopped entirely. Whenever he holds me, I somehow imagine you…Your soft arms, your tender touch. The way you knew my body better then a farmer knows his or her fields. The way you could navigate it just as I could with a canvas. I can imagine it all perfectly when he holds me, and I know it isn't fair to him or Michael.

But my chest doesn't feel right anymore. It feels like I can't take in oxygen, like I'm running low. It tightens and constricts, and not too soon after, my stomach fallows.

It aches. Sweetie, I know you said that heart break isn't real. But I can assure you that it very much is.

If I could, I would write down everything that I'm feeling right now and send it to you. I would let you know piece by piece why life is not working out without you in it, and I'd send it to you. I would let you know all of it, and then you could send me a detailed letter about why it was happening. Tell me how the chemicals make me feel this way. Tell me about evolution. Tell me anything, sweetie…I just need to hear your voice, if only on paper.

I can't do that, however, and you know this as well as I. So instead I'm jotting this down on some old scratch paper, and it'll be shredded tonight before I leave. I can't risk someone from the FBI finding this. I can't risk giving anything away.

Our flowers will work for now.

I still remember the first flower I ever gave you. It was a rose. You were so confused until I explained it to you, and then you simply stated that poetry had no place in the way of science.

It's mixing the two, I told you. You can't have science without art. Or art without science. They intertwine.

It's unnecessary, you replied.

So is friendship, I told you. Weren't we still friends?

If I'd known that it would grow from there, I would have ran away.

If I'd known that Hodgins and I, and you and Booth, would have a child together, then I'd have stayed away. I would have fought you like a drug that's impossible to resist. But then, it doesn't matter anymore, does it? You're millions of miles away and I'm here.

We can't change the past.

I'm not even sure if I can change the future.

Now instead of a rose I'm sending you an azalea. And I hope you get the message, even if it isn't necessary.

Please take care of yourself.

I'd never forgive myself if you ended up dead.

Love,

Ange


	28. Chapter 28

**Episode-Post marriage of Booth/Brennan**

**Prompt-"I can't make you love me/Nick of time" by Bon Iver. This is NOT like my usual stuff here. Not much romance.**

* * *

_So you and her…Were a couple?_

_You have a problem with that?_

Brennan's sharp defense all those years ago was brought to mind again as Angela lay in bed. How quickly she had come to her aid when the whole thing with Roxy had been unveiled. How quickly Brennan had, while they were alone, promised that if Booth gave her any grief, he'd be on the ground with her foot to his neck.

Thanks sweetie, she'd said with a laugh.

That was years ago. That was back when flings were still common and they often shared beds together. Back when their commitment to each other was simply a night worth. Things had morphed. They had changed. Just as both's environment was changed, they too had to morph and adapt with the climate. They were getting older. Sooner or later, they would have to settle down.

It had never occurred to Angela before she settled down with Jack that, perhaps, she'd wanted to settle down with Brennan.

Jack was downstairs with Michael, playing some mind numbing video game. He seemed oblivious to the whole thing, despite being a genius scientist. For a while, she was sure it would fail, for even as an artist, she'd never been able to maintain well in she was a better actress then her eleventh grade director had ever given her credit for. Maybe she was playing the role just right.

If both of them were in on it, it would make things easier. But Brennan had fallen totally for Booth. Not that Angela blamed her, or him for that matter. They'd been dancing around each other for years, and it was no surprise to her that she and he had slept together after Nigel-Vincent.

It was a surprise, however, when they tied the knot.

And after all that happened, Angela refused to say anything to get in the way of it. She refused to ruin their marriage. Instead, she played the part of a best friend, holding her hand, picking out a dress, reassuring her that all would be well.

All the while, in her dreams, Angela would ask herself why SHE hadn't made the move sooner. Why SHE hadn't asked Brennan to marry her. Why SHE wasn't the one that was going to kiss Brennan on the lips, vowing to love her forever.

After all the couple had gone through, though, Angela couldn't do that.

Now that Brennan was happy, no, Angela couldn't do that.

She couldn't ruin it.

Brennan had seen it once. She wasn't supposed to, but she did. She seemed to have picked up a few things from Booth. The one time that Angela said, I love you sweetie, after the wedding, Brennan had smiled sadly.

It took her a moment before she nodded and hugged her tight.

_I don't love you like that anymore, Ange. I'm so sorry._

Angela wondered what had given it away. Had it been her tone, or the look in her eyes? Her body language? Or had Brennan seen it in the past few months, hell, years, and just told her the truth now?

Angela had nodded in response, feeling an empty pit in her stomach.

So now, a year after the marriage, Angela lays in bed, wishing that something could change. Whether that be to what she really wanted, or back to the way it used to be. She doesn't really care. Things have changed too drastically.

She doesn't say 'I love you' anymore.


	29. Chapter 29

**Episode-Basis of Season 2 finale. AU.**

**Note-Look, I'm sorry I'm doing all these...None romantic fics xD I kind of write what I'm feeling at the time and this is it. So sorry.**

* * *

Sometimes it just aches. It aches in an unnatural fashion, and it causes her to want to sob. It causes pain that she never knew existed. And she's seen pain before. She's seen it, she's hated it. There were times in her life where all she wanted was to take all the pain in the world, and put it on her own shoulders.

She felt things in a way that she knew she shouldn't. Sometimes at night, she would awake sweating, remembering the touch of soft, untainted skin. Sometimes she would awake with her name on her lips, so close to being uttered.

_Angela._

Brennan dreams of her, and she swears she'd do anything to get rid of this hurt in her heart. It's a clawing feeling. Like someone has torn out her heart or crawled into her chest and decided they needed to scratch away at it.

She has no right. Brennan knows this. She has no right. Angela is not hers to keep. They never promised each other anything. They had no vows. That was the way Brennan had wanted it.

_Will you be my maid of honor?_

However, somehow she had gotten tangled up in this web. Somehow she learned to care about Angela on a more then 'once a night' basis. Somehow she managed to crawl into Angelas life. Somehow, Angela had managed to do the same.

And so she was happy when Angela asked her.

It meant that they had something.

But at the same time, the aching would not go away. It wasn't crumbling. It was growing with the intensity of a forest fire.

Hurting had never been a variable before, because love had never been a variable before. Keeping people at an arms length had been an effort that she had put her everything in. Hurting had never been a variable, not since she was a child. Not in things such as relationships.

Hurting. Was not. A variable.

Suddenly, it was. And she had to find a way to fix it. Hurting could not become a deciding factor.

She came to Angela and handed her a letter, bowing her head when she did. Angela read it and looked up suddenly, shaking her head.

"No. Zack is leaving. You aren't allowed to go to."

She hadn't thought she would go. She'd been to too many war zones. Had seen too much hurt. But if she had to keep hurting, then she might as well do it protecting Zack.

"It will be his first time. I'll likely be sent to more dangerous areas. Zack will accomplish 'leaving the nest' so to speak. I'll just be there in case. Doing my job for the government,"

Angela looked at her in disbelief, then pointed to the date.

"That's a week before Hodgins and I get married, Bren. You realize this, don't you?"

She nodded slowly.

"I'm sorry. I assure you that Cam will be happy to accompany you-"

"I don't want _Cam _to accompany me, Brennan. I love her, but I love you more. You're like my sister, Brennan. You _cannot go to Iraq,"_

"It's too late. I'm sorry, Ange,"

Things had changed. They both knew it.

So when Angela turned around angrily, Brennan didn't confront her or try to comfort her.

Instead, she found Zack and discussed. Logic, science.

The best thing to fall back on when you're terrified of everything.


	30. Chapter 30

**Episode-Post Season 8 Finale**

**Note-I suck. This is short. But it was what I had in preparation for tomorrow. **

* * *

She's been this way for a long time. Worried.

Worry wasn't even a fair thing to call it. She was worried when Michael fussed during the day. She was worried when she could feel her own stomach clench in discomfort. She was worried when she was afraid that they wouldn't finish a case in time.

This wasn't worry. But she didn't know what else to call it.

Brennan wasn't okay. That much was true. After what Booth had done to her, who could blame her?

She just…Sat there. She just stared. And sometimes she would talk to Angela, but mostly she would just stare or work. Sometimes, Angela wasn't even sure which she was doing, because sometimes Brennan would just stare at a pile of bones, unwilling to move from the spot with glazed eyes.

She'd warned Booth not to fuck with Brennan. That had been their first real conversation. And now was the time to confront him.

"Booth!" she shouted. He too, seemed constantly out of it. But that didn't mean that she felt any pity for him. This was, after all, his fault. He had no right to take Brennan's heart and break it. That wasn't his heart to break.

"Yeah?" he asked.

Just as quickly as that word was uttered, she got close to his face, as high on her toes as she could get. She glared at him and pushed him against the nearest wall before hissing these words.

"You. Do not. Get to use her like that. You understand?"

Blank stare.

"You. Do not. Get to take her heart. And break it into a million pieces. You do not get to treat her like that. You. Do not. Get that ability. Do you understand?"

"Stay out of-"

"Shut up! She is fucking broken! Don't you get that? She's hurting! And you're here, in the fucking FBI building! What the hell? Is there someone else? Huh? Are you just fucking with her for the hell of it?"

"Angela-"

"I said shut up! What the HELL are you even doing here?" she asked, breathing heavily. Booth slid away from her and shook his head, ignoring it all. And just like that, Angela was gone as well. She had nothing more to say to him.

And so instead of being angry once more, she found Brennan. She brought her into her car. And Angela drove them to a hotel.

Entangled in one another, both forgot their troubles. If only for a moment.


End file.
